Stone
by elyse43230
Summary: Aurek's (Egg's) son feels trapped within the confines of The Mountain - a mountain abode shaped by Aurek during the 10,000 year sleep. When the Wolfriders arrive unexpectedly, the young elf, Balen, is forever changed after a quick-forming relationship with Strongbow's son, Arrowstorm. (Alterna-verse after HY 9.5, could run parallel to Shards)
1. Prologue

**Stone… A "What If?" Elfquest Fanfiction**

The alternate scenario: Elf fights against elf in a in a battle of wills to solve the deepest of betrayals. The blood of ten chiefs against the very being that slowly chipped away at the very essence of what made him Wolfrider. The pair, Rayek and Cutter, are left with many issues unresolved, but a tepid understanding that the now of wolf thought can begin anew in this new holt, with families reunited after thousands of years in preserver wrapstuff. The Scroll of Colors never spin on their own. Winnowill never takes a chance to fly the Palace in her watery cell. Rayek, his partner Ekuar, and his daughter Venka return to the palace. The Wolfriders hunt and howl. The Palace remains in tact, never to become shards and split families apart once more.

A long winter has unveiled a renewing spring. The Wolfriders have lived longer than their mortal blood destined. As some go easily back to the now of the wolf, others yearn for the adventures they have known all of their lives. Moonshade brings forth the first of a new generation of Wolfriders to enjoy the peace and prosperity of this new time. A quiet male child, who resembles his father Strongbow in both spirit and physicality.

But this story begins some years after in a place far from the Holt…

* * *

_I have done so little_  
_ For you,_  
_ And you have done so little_  
_ For me,_  
_ That we have good reason_  
_ Never to agree._

_I, however,_  
_ Have such meagre_  
_ Power,_  
_ Clutching at a_  
_ Moment,_  
_ While you control_  
_ An hour._

_But your hour is_  
_ A stone._

_My moment is_  
_ A flower. -Langston Hughes*_

PROLOGUE

The room was cold, and he could feel the vibrations of the rain hitting the stone of the mountain all around him. As he lay on the bed, he curled his knees closer to his chest. The linens of the bed were soft and made from days of labor from an elf he never met. He needed to go to sleep. He was required to attend the games tomorrow. It would be a long day for him, exceedingly boring and uncomfortable. Sometimes he would get so uneasy sitting still for so long, he would feel an urge to jump up and down or maybe go running and see how long his legs would carry him. Sometimes he imagined making the walls shake or the floor rumble in waves. Perhaps he could make the stone swallow him up. Could a rock-shaper suffocate within stone?

He heard her footsteps before he heard the door open almost silently. The linens on the bed shifted as she slipped behind him onto the bed. Her thin fingers brushed through his yellow hair, starting in the crown and traveling throughout its length. The gesture made his skin tingle.

Her small breasts pressed against his back. Her hands wrapped around his waist, and he felt her relax as she made a heavy sigh. The length of her naked body pressed heavily against him as she enclosed him in her embrace. Relaxation set in for him, and the worries and anxieties about tomorrow's activities drifted from his thoughts.

"Balen, my sweet one," she murmured. "Did you see what the tailors made for you? The color is divine. It's like they took the very color of your eyes and…"

Her voice trailed off as she squeezed her hands tightly around his waist.

"I wish you would have at least tried it on." Her voice was barely above a whisper. Balen felt a surge of emotion within him that he couldn't define completely. Whether it was guilt or anger, his body became tense under her embrace.

"But it doesn't matter. Tomorrow you will be a vision." One of her delicate hands moved, caressing him up to his chest and down to his stomach. "Dream sweetly, my love."

"Yes, Mother." Balen said. "I love you."

* * *

*I begin this piece with the poem "Poet to Bigot" by Langston Hughes, because it was the poem that inspired the title of this story as well as some up in a neat little way the conflict between elves like Gliders and elves like Wolfriders. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1: Fire Games

Balen was roused from a deep sleep from the commotion in the adjacent room. The stone didn't prevent the sound for him. He could hear the footsteps behind the wall that separated his sleeping chamber from the sitting room. The sounds were all around him, far above and deep down below. He didn't hear them with his ears; instead he "heard" through the slight vibrations of countless fingers and toes brushing against the stone that made The Mountain. It maddened him, keeping him ever tense and uneasy.

His mother said his father built The Mountain. Balen knew better. Rock-shapers don't build anything. They shape what was already there. You can't build a mountain, Balen once said to her. His mother became so upset, he never spoke about it again.

Giggling erupted from the sitting room, and Balen knew there was no escaping the inevitable end to his delicious sleep. He rose and walked slowly into the sitting room. He didn't use the door but walked directly through the stone wall as if the stone was made of water.

"Oh, sweet one, just look at this!" His mother's voice was like a tiny bell. It was as small as her and perhaps sounded like a child's – if Balen had actually ever heard another child's voice. Perhaps his own voice once sounded like hers: tiny, like the tinkling of icicles as they fell from where they formed.

Draped between his mother's upheld hands was a coat of silver-gray, so light and delicate, it resembled the light clouds left behind after a heavy rain. She quickly darted behind him and guided his hands through the robust sleeves that instantly weighed down his shoulders. His first thought was how much this ridiculous coat would add to his discomfort today. The sleeves flowed down to the top of his fingertips and then cascaded to the floor in a thick drapery of fabric. He could feel his mother's tiny hands brushing at the shoulder as he fumbled with the sleeves, attempting to free his fingers from under the stiff fabric. The coat was fastened with three buttons that started at his neck and ended right below his chest. The remainder of the coat hung open and tapered off to flow down his back, stopping slightly before it graced the floor.

"Isn't it stunning?" his mother squealed. Her company gushed in agreement, nodding their heads and clapping their hands together. "Bring the rest, would you darlings?" The servants quickly began gathering up the garments to accompany the coat.

"I would like a wash," Balen said, his voice quiet and groggy.

His mother laughed, tossing the coat onto the nearby chair. "Oh, sweet one, I'm just so eager for everyone to see you. You know it's not very often I get to show you off to the whole Mountain! Of course you can have a bath. Ladies!" Before she even finished, the servants were rushing into the wash room and off to fetch the water.

"Mother, let me wash in the springs. I do not need a bath drawn." Balen turned and began to walk back into the sleeping chamber. His mother's hand clasped his shoulder, her nails sharply pressing though his tunic into his skin.

"You are a member of Lord Umber's council. You do not need to go down to the springs. You have your own bath and your own sleeping chamber for a reason. Your father bestowed you with these gifts, Balen. How could you not…" Her voice began to weaken. She stepped away from Balen, her hands cupping her face. He saw her shoulders shake. It was only a matter of moments before the unstoppable tears flowed from her deep brown eyes. Balen knew he would not be going to the springs this morning. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his mother, allowing her to press her face into his chest to muffle her sobs. He caressed her back gently, soothing her with an endless stream of kind words and apologies.

She looked up at him and pressed her lips softly against his neck. He could feel her hot breath against his neck. She slid her fingers against the side of his face, moving them under his ear and then down through his long, blonde hair.

"My lady, the bath is ready," the servant Onna said from the doorway to the wash room. Balen broke from his mother's arms. His hand lingered on hers, their fingers intertwined. She gently squeezed his hand and smiled. She was remarkably beautiful. Her dark brown eyes were large, and her lips were a deep shade of pink and sensual. Her skin, like all elves' within The Mountain, was almost without any color at all. Her white skin contrasted with her dark brown curls that flowed heavily down her back. She wore a pale purple dress that flowed as she moved toward the doorway. Balen was taller than her, but not as tall as she had expected him to be.

"I will be back soon. I want to see how the preparations of today's games are coming along. I will bring you something to eat as well, my love." He watched her as she walked down the long hallway that led to the grand staircase of the large great room at the center of The Mountain.

Balen was grateful for the few moments of quiet solitude. He quickly washed, though he had to brush away the offers of assistance from his mother's servants. He reveled in the warmth of the water. The sensation of the water running down his back, through his hair, made the day's activities seem surmountable. He gathered his pale golden hair over his shoulder. He twisted the length of it, squeezing the water so it ran down his arms and back into the tub. He pulled at the length and closed his eyes. Pressure formed around his scalp. The pressure turned to a small pulse of pain as he continues to pull harder at his hair. He closed his eyes.

"My Lord? Balen?" The small voice came from Ella, one of Balen's mother's servants who Balen found the most favorable. His eyes shot open, and his body shifted in the water causing a splash. He released the grip on his hair.

"Are you all right, Lord Balen? Do you need me to summon your mother?" She stepped toward him, a plush drying towel in her hand.

"No, no, Ella. I was just thinking I suppose." He stepped out of the tub, and Ella handed him the towel. He returned to the sitting room; Ella followed him, always at a respectful distance.

"All right, Ella. Once I'm in this ridiculous costume, you must promise me will not hold back your laughter. Someone should get some amusement out of this wretched display." He pulled on his short undergarment and the soft, gray-blue leather pants, which were distinctly darker than his coat.

"Lord Balen," Ella laughed sweetly as she approached him with his white under shirt. "I would never laugh at you. You don't even know how beautiful you are. How you make the girls quiver when you walk by them." Her voice took on a playful tone as a smile spread across her lips. She laced up his leather pants. Balen felt the eyes of his mother's two other servants, Onna and Trinke, on them. He knew they disliked Ella, which is precisely what made her so favorable to him. She had a boldness about her that only emerged when his mother was out of hearing's length.

"I do not believe you, Ella," Balen said with a mild grin. She adjusted his tunic. Her finger tips lingered within the waist of his pants, and she playfully pulled him closer to her. He gazed down into her bright lavender eyes, a flirty smile remaining on her lips.

"Thank you, Ella," Balen's mother said as she brushed past them, placing a platter of food onto the nearby table. "We will not be needing any more assistance. Please, wait for us in the hallway."

Ella quickly nodded her head, the smile disappearing, as she stepped out of the room, the other servants trailing behind her. Balen watched the doorway even after they were out of sight. His face was flushed, and he felt a mix of embarrassment and that ever lingering anger. He knew his mother disliked Ella, but she didn't have the courage to dismiss her. Though Ella and his mother were of the same age, having grown up together, his mother treated her like every other servant.

"Come, my love, sit down. You must eat something." Balen's mother guided him to the table, seating him before the platter. His mother retrieved a comb from a small chest of drawers and slowly began to comb out the tangles in his still wet hair. She combed through it lovingly and gently, never tugging or pulling at the roots. Soon enough, he finished is breakfast and pushed away the platter. She continued to comb, though the hair was free of any tangles.

"My lady Hilleen. Are you or the young lord in need of any assistance?" They both turned to see Saladin standing politely in the doorway. He was dressed modestly for the games, in a typical leather tunic and leggings. His black hair, however, was pulled back with a strap of leather, when he normally allowed it to fall freely to his shoulders.

"Sal! Please, come in. Have you seen the coat they made for Balen?" His mother pulled Sal by one hand into the room, guiding him to the coat hanging heavily from the hook on the wall. She spread open the coat with one hand, the other still holding on to Sal.

"It's really something," Sal said. Balen cringed, knowing that Sal found it as over-the-top as he did.

"If only Aurek could have seen him in it today." She turned to look at Balen, though Balen could tell she was deep in thought and not truly looking at him. "Look how he is growing up. Can you believe it, Sal?"

Balen felt a thumping of sadness within him at the sound of his father's name.

"Yes, Hilleen. Time passes quickly, indeed." Balen's eyes met Sal's, and Balen shook his head and smiled, attempting to apologize for his mother's intense enthusiasm. Balen felt at-ease with Sal. He had a warmth unlike all other dwellers in The Mountain. He laughed more than anyone Balen knew, a hearty laugh that caused Balen to laugh with him just at the sound of it. And Sal loved his mother. Sal never attempted to hide it, and he loved her without any reciprocation whatsoever. Balen used to frequently ask Sal about Balen's father. What was his father like? Why did he leave? But Sal would never give Balen complete answers, ever following Hilleen's wishes to keep the sad memories from Balen. Eventually, Balen stopped asking.

"Well, let's see it, Balen," Sal motioned for Balen to approach.

Balen begrudgingly approached the coat and draped if over his shoulders, before sliding his arms through the immense sleeves that draped to the ground. He attempted to clasp the buttons himself, but the excess fabric of the long sleeves made the task difficult, as the sleeves continuously draped over his hands. It was Sal who took a moment to clasp the buttons together. Sal smiled and took a step back.

"You look like a very distinguished lord, Balen. It looks so heavy on you, you'll even acquire that feeble walk." Sal started to walk away from Balen, bending forward to create a pronounced hump on his back. Sal's boots scraped against the ground as he took two slow steps forward, before he erupted in a guffaw that forced his mother to click her tongue in a distinct "tsk."

"Forgive me, forgive me, Hilleen." Sal scooped her up in his arms, swinging her gently from side to side. "It's just he's such a young elf, and you've dressed him like a very old elf."

"Well," his mother's voice was small, child-like, "Aurek was the oldest elf anyone has ever known. Old and very wise. I think it quite suits Balen." She turned from them, and she headed for the doorway.

"If this coat had a front, I would be in a dress," Balen said, a laugh forming in his chest.

"Aw, Balen," Sal said, putting a strong arm around Balen's slender shoulders, "your mother loves you more than anything in this world. It's a blessing from the High Ones to have someone who loves you like your mother does."

Balen could only nod, as they walked out the door and into the long hallway.

"But what a stunning dress it would be, Balen. And you, a vision!" Sal laughed, wrapping his arm around Balen's shoulders and pulling Balen towards him so quickly that Balen almost lost his balance. Balen laughed as he stumbled forward.

"You're such a horse's ass, Sal," Balen laughed.

"I'd rather be a horse's ass than a plume-plucked cock." Balen turned to Sal and pushed him away with all of his might.

"I would make a rock fall on your head. But I fear I would hurt the rock."

Sal knocked loudly on the top of his head, laughing as he walked beside Balen. "Yes, you're probably right." He gave Balen a playful shove.

Before Balen realized it, they were at the top of the grand staircase leading down to the massive great room. His mother waited patiently with her servants at the top of the steps.

"Let's go, my sweet one," his mother held out her hand, which Balen quickly grasped. They began the long descent down the steps. He could hear the hum of countless voices chatting below. More elves gathered for the games than any other occasion in the great room. The massive space served various purposes throughout the year for the inhabitants of The Mountain. Still, the great room did not contain all the elves who dwelled in The Mountain, as many were left to tend to their work as the privileged chosen were invited to watch the activities. All his life, Balen had been a member of the great Lord Umber's council. As it were, Balen attended every event, from the games today to the lifemating ceremonies that occasionally occurred.

Today the great room was transformed for the games that occurred only once a year. Many years before he was born, Balen had been told the story of how the games were invented by his father. A young, rambunctious elf, a hunter outside The Mountain by trade, challenged another elf to a fight to the death. The other elf was a user of magic, but every time Balen heard the story, the sort of magic always changed. Sometimes the hunter challenged a plant shaper. Other times it was a thought reader. Balen's favorite variation of the story was when the hunter challenged a healer; the healer being forced to use his own powers not to heal but to harm.

Why the hunter challenged the magic user always remained the same: the magic user seduced and stole away the hunter's lifemate.

As the story goes, Balen's father wanted to settle the conflict between the elves. The magic user had no desire to fight, but the hunter was eager to seek justice. Balen's father shaped a deep circle onto the stone of the great room. The rules were simple: use any means necessary to get your opponent to step outside of the circle. All weapons were fair, but so was all magic. The hunter howled how unfair the terms were, because he wanted permission to send his blade through the magic user's flesh. However, it was forbidden, as no elf should die, and so the game began. For many of the dwellers of The Mountain, the story of this first battle is the first story they ever hear. And as the story goes, the magic user forced the hunter to step outside the circle. Defeated, many say the hunter left The Mountain and never returned – though Balen had also heard that the hunter died when he was thrown off the back of a no-hump.

Once a year had passed, the dwellers of the Mountain longed to experience the excitement from the first games once again. As a result, the game resumed, this time with two volunteer fighters. In the tradition of the first fight, one fighter was an elf with no magical talents and the other a magic user. Over time, the games expanded to include a tournament of battles that would ultimately lead to one victor. That victor would take a place of high honor among the council and was invited to dwell in a suite of rooms not unlike Balen's.

For every year of Balen's life, the Victor's suite was inhabited by the same elf: Hussar, the undefeated fire elf. Hussar had a gift that had never been known before his birth; he could burn objects with a flame that burst from his very finger tips. His flames were so powerful, he could extend them across the whole length of the circle. Balen found Hussar incredibly dim-witted and pompous. While the council members fawned over his fire tricks, Balen hoped every year that a new elf would knock him so firmly from the circle that Hussar himself would burst into flames.

The spectators were already seated for the viewing of the games. Rows of stone benches made up a wide staircase that allowed for several hundred Mountain dwellers to view the games. Across the circle on the opposite side, a large canopy covered the stone seats reserved for Lord Umber and his council. Balen would sit among the council here; his mother sitting beside him, and his servants standing close behind him. Other than the quiet voices of elves mingling at the base of the great stone staircase, the spectators sat silently as they waited for the fight to begin. The composed, placid expressions of The Mountain dwellers gave no indication of the exciting, dangerous games that were about to commence; a fact that Balen always found disquieting.

Balen took no pleasure in the display of physical strength and strong magic. It was not that he found it barbaric, but he held on to the horrible anger when he was told at a very young age that he was never going to be allowed to participate in the games. As a member of the council, he was far too distinguished and important to be risking injury; or so he was told. Balen could recall pleading with his mother year after year to ask Lord Umber again if he could begin training for the games like the other fighters. After constant hindrance from Lord Umber and his mother, Balen stopped asking.

Prospective volunteers spent moons preparing for the games. Balen recognized most of the non-magic users as being hunters or metal workers by trade. Preparing for the games and being accepted to participate in the elite tournament was a source of great pride for families. Though Hussar would inevitably take the ultimate prize, all the elves in the games were revered on the day of the games. Once the games were through, however, each elf went back to their trade, swallowed up by The Mountain to become another pale face in the sea of souls who inhabited it.

Hilleen wrapped her slender arm around Balen's, and they walked together towards the council member's canopy. He scanned the mingling crowd. His eyes met with several others as he looked about the room, and each time, the elf would nod or lean into a bow. He knew why they did this. He understood that everyone in The Mountain knew his father, respected his father, and therefore respected Balen. Balen, the living remnant of the powerful, ancient rock-shaper that created The Mountain.

As they approached the canopy, Balen noticed the small crowd who surrounded Lord Umber. Normally, one had to be invited or requested to have an audience with the supreme ruler. Lord Umber would begin to say during the nightly feasts in the banquet hall as the games approached how much he enjoyed being "among his people." Balen knew better; Lord Umber reveled in the quiet, controlled surroundings of the upper tiers of The Mountain's structure and the company of the council members.

Balen felt his mother pulling him toward Lord Umber. As the pair approached, the crowd parted to allow them through.

"Lady Hilleen," Lord Umber reached out for his mother's hands, which she held for a moment and smiled sweetly at him.

"And Lord Balen. Always wonderful to see you looking more like your father every day," Lord Umber said and smiled coolly at Balen.

Balen looked back at The Mountain's leader, knowing he should smile or nod respectfully. He felt a hotness rising to his face, and he could not determine if it was anger or embarrassment.

"I would not know, Lord Umber. I have never met him." Before Balen had finished speaking, his mother had turned to look at him, her eyes wide.

"Balen," his mother said quickly, taking him by the arm, "Lord Umber was giving you kind words and you do not need to…"

"It is all right, Hilleen. The child is right. Aurek will return, Balen. Always be prepared for that." He paused, creating a moment of silence that made Balen realize he could hear his heart pumping loudly within his chest.

"Shall we ready ourselves for the first round? I was told today's games would be one of surprises." Lord Umber turned and led them and several other council members to their seats. His mother led Balen quickly, and she pulled him down into his seat with a force that filled Balen with dread. Though he knew his mother's wrath was upon him, he didn't regret speaking the thoughts in his head openly to Lord Umber. The exhilarated pounding in Balen's chest made him want to say it again.

Balen could hear Sal's voice close behind his seat, causing Balen to peer around the chair's high back. Sal was speaking with Ella until his head turned to meet Balen's gaze, smiling a friendly salutation. Balen felt his mother pull on his sleeve, which made him spin around quickly to face her. He gave her an expression of annoyance, and he watched as her eyes narrowed.

"Why are you behaving this way?" She spoke in a volume below a whisper.

Balen breathed a few slow breaths before he turned away from her and looked down. He felt his resolve vanish. His mother placed her hand upon his sleeve and gently stroked his arm. It was finished.

"I heard one fighter has a breastplate that doesn't allow him to feel the heat of fire. Think Hussar has met his match?" Sal had appeared next to Balen, leaning in close as he spoke.

"That is ridiculous, Sal!" His mother chirped, all of her anger at Balen melting from away from her voice and expression. "How can a breastplate keep away the heat of fire?"

"It's all been very secretive down in the forge." Sal said with a wink that caused his mother to smile widely. "I still say they should let you take him on, Balen. You can't very well burn a rock can you?" Sal nudged Balen's arm several times with his elbow. Balen looked up at Sal and something about his expression made the smile vanish from Sal's face. He glanced at Hilleen.

"I'll be here if you need me, all right?" Sal shook Balen's shoulder before he let out a laugh and walked back behind the canopy.

A loud blast of a horn took Balen by surprise, though he was grateful for the sound. The sound of the horn meant only one thing: the arrival of the first fighters. After the horn went silent, all voices were quiet. The heavy silence filled the enormous room as the elves waited for the arrival of the fighers. The first round was a magic-user fight. He heard the scraping of metal boots on the stone as the fighters approached the circle. One fighter was wearing several pieces of metal armor, including boots and gauntlets. He had a sheathed sword on his belt. He walked confidently into the circle and took his place at one edge.

Balen recognized the fighter from previous games. His name was Galazar, and he was not only a member of Lord Umber's chosen protectors, but he had the power of sending. The power to send was the most common power among the dwellers of The Mountain, but so few used the gift. Most believed those who sent were secretive and not to be trusted. It usually resulted in word getting to Lord Umber, who used his gifts to read the thoughts of senders for the safety of The Mountain. The first fighter, however, took great pride in his ability to send. In previous fights, he would use a powerful sending to disorient and cause pain to his opponent who he then pushed out of the circle or they simply stumbled out on their own.

The second fighter approached the circle with apprehensive steps. Balen sat forward slightly in his seat. The elf was distinct, because he did not have the build of muscle or clear training that all of the other fighter's possessed. Instead, he had a small, wiry build. It appeared as though a swift kick would send him flying out of the room entirely. He carried no weapons and wore no armor. Balen peered around the chair and motioned for Sal.

Sal knelt down next to Balen. "Who is that?" Balen asked quietly.

"His name is Tundle. I've never actually met him, but I did hear about him from the others."

"What does he do?" Balen looked back at Tundle, unable to understand what made the game masters deem him worthy for the games.

"That, I don't know. Nobody but the game masters saw him fight. He also never trained or met with a smithy."

"Well, Lord Umber _did_ say these games would contain surprises," Balen's mother said, looking up at Sal.

"Ha!" Sal let out one of his jovial laughs and shook his head. The room remained quiet as the arbiter walked forward into the circle. He put both of his hands into the air. Sal once again disappeared from Balen's sight.

"I renounce the floor to our great leader, Lord Umber!" the arbiter bellowed and then bowed before Lord Umber, who stood up from his high backed stone throne.

"Thank you. Let us have a fair games, free from unnecessary harm to the mind and flesh. Though we fight elf against elf in the games, we grow stronger within The Mountain, reminded of our immense power of body and will. In Lord Voll's name, we carry on."

The room erupted with hundreds of voices in somber repetition of the words within The Mountain: In Lord Voll's name, we carry on.

Lord Umber paused for a moment before taking a seat, motioning for the arbiter to continue.

"Gifted with magic, use any means to cause your opponent to step outside of this circle. Once the horn is sounded, the game is finished, and the victor will compete in the next magic game. Are these rules clear?" Both fighters nodded. Galazar sneered at Tundle, who looked at the arbiter with an expression that Balen couldn't quite read. The arbiter stepped outside of the circle. Balen could hear his mother take a deep breath in.

"Begin!"

The sender in an instant unsheathed his sword and took two easy strides toward Tundle who took a small step forward into the circle. Galazar began to step to the right, his eyes staying firmly planted on Tundle. Tundle began to walk in the opposite direction of the sender, taking small steps to keep a safe distance. Balen wondered if Galazar was attacking Tundle's minds with painful intensity, though Balen could see no sign of it on Tundle's face.

The two elves began to circle within the perimeter of the ring, neither elf attempting to approach the other directly. Tundle kept his arms bent and slightly out in front of him as if he was ready to catch himself in a fall at any moment. He moved lightly on his feet. Galazar continued to wield the sword, though he made no attempt to swing it. The only sound Balen could hear was the clank of the sender's metal boots on the stone floor.

Suddenly, Tundle grasped either side of his head and shook it violently. He let out an exasperated groan and flung himself at Galazar. The sender stood his ground, a vicious smirk on his face and lifted the sword higher. Tundle stopped himself directly in front of the sender, who lifted his sword higher. Balen saw as the sword stopped rising and fell from Galazar's grasp. It fell to the floor with a clatter that startled Balen's mother, for he heard her let out a quiet gasp. Balen realized he was almost out of his seat, sitting as forward as he could, and his eyes transfixed on the two elves in the ring.

Tundle took two steps back, but Galazar appeared to be frozen where he stood. His arms remained bent across him as if the sword had never fallen from his grasp. Tundle looked around at the elves packed into the rows of benches at his side and then turned to look at the arbiter, who stood close to Balen near the canopy. No one said a word or moved from where they sat. Tundle peered back at the sender and stepped directly in front of him once more. He put out both of his hands and appeared to, with all his might, push on Galazar's chest. Slowly, Galazar fell directly onto his back, as if there was no life in him at all or as if Tundle had just pushed over a pillar of stone. He landed with an echoing crash.

Balen involuntarily found himself standing. A wide smile spread across his face, and he heard himself let out a short laugh, which came from shock more than mirth. He watched as Tundle crouched down at Galazar's feet and lifted both of Galazar's legs into the air. Tundle began to drag the sender's body across the length of the circle toward the perimeter. He strained at the weight of the lifeless body and moved it slowly.

And as Tundle dragged his opponent's body across the floor, Balen erupted into laughter. His shoulders shook, and he bent at the waist, clutching his sides as he watched Tundle. The display was so unexpected, preposterous, and wonderfully amusing that Balen could not control the fits of laughter that radiated through him. Tundle looked over at Balen and gave him a crooked smile as he continued to drag the sender to the edge. Tears formed in Balen's eyes that he started to wipe away and said, "I cannot believe this! By the High One's, I cannot believe this!"

Balen could hear his mother pleading at him, begging him to sit down. It was Sal, however, who he saw standing before him.

"Sal! Can you believe this?" Balen gestured toward Tundle, as the victory horn was sounded. This caused Balen to continue to laugh in disbelief. Sal put both of his hands on Balen's shoulders, smiling at him, but Balen saw that the smile wasn't mirthful.

"Balen, let's go get some fresh air. I think you're overheated in that coat." Sal began to pull Balen away from his chair.

"No, Sal. I am fine." Balen broke away from Sal's grasp. He realized he was out of breath. "Really, I am fine. It is just…" Balen looked at the ring again and saw a group of elves attempting to carry the sender's still life-less form out of the great room. He saw the healer Vennette rushing toward the fallen sender. Balen's eyes met with Sal's again. "Did you see how Galazar could not move? Tundle is going to beat Hussar!" Balen's voice was loud with amazement. He felt his heart racing again.

"Balen, go with Sal. You have gotten yourself worked up, and you are not well." Balen's mother stroked his arm. "Sal, please take him." Balen felt her pushing him toward Sal.

"No!" Balen swung his arm out of from his mother's reach and stepped away from his stone seat. "I am fine, really. I do not need to leave. I do not want to leave. This is the first time I have ever wanted to stay at these dreadful games."

"Lord Balen," Lord Umber's unexpected voice came from across the canopy. "Go with Saladin. I cannot have anyone distracting our fighters during risky games such as these. Return when you are feeling in control of yourself."

Balen stood, his mouth agape, as Sal began to pull Balen by the arm away from the canopy. His thoughts burned with a rage that made it seem as though the world before him had turned red hot. He continued to stare at Lord Umber as Sal attempted to drag Balen away.

"In control of yourself…" Balen repeated under his breath, his mind churning through hate-filled thought after vile thought. He wanted to wrap his hands around Lord Umber's throat the squeeze as hard as he could. He wanted to shove a stone against his mother's chest and pierce her with a thousand sharp spines. He wanted to drop Sal, who continued to tug at the immense sleeve of Balen's coat, into the bowels of The Mountain until he suffocated.

"Take your hands off of me, Sal," Balen said, his voice flat, without malice.

Sal continued to drag Balen away from the canopy. Balen saw Sal's lips moving in response, but the sound in Balen's ears of blood pumping drowned out any other sound around him.

"Take your hands off of _me_!" With Balen's final syllable, he pushed out his rage like he never had before. Without effort, without attempt, Balen felt a wave go through the very ground around him and up the walls on all sides of the great room. He heard screaming and the sound of pebbles hitting the stone floor. His gaze fell to the floor, where before him was a crack in the foundation that split the ground between himself and Sal. He looked up and saw Sal's terrified expression, his hands stretched out before him in a futile attempt to protect himself.

Balen heard an enormous crack and knew a pillar had broken from its foundation and was about to tumble into the immense crowd of fleeing elves. Balen breathed in and closed his eyes. Coherent thoughts began to return to him. _Stop this_, he thought.

And as quickly as it had happened, Balen mended the stone floor. He restructured the crumbled walls and ceiling, stone melting back into itself. The broken pillar stopped in mid tumble, seeming almost to liquefy and wrapped itself back up into its sound, sturdy resting place.

Balen took a step back and stumbled under the canopy, falling between two of the stone seats. He found is difficult to catch his breath. His bleary gaze fell upon the unexpected face of Hussar, the fire elf, who looked at him with disdain. He then saw Tundle, approaching him, a curious expression on his face. Balen looked down at his own hands.

He felt his mother wrap her arms around him. He could tell by the way she was breathing that she was crying.

"Balen!" she sobbed, her breath catching in her throat causing her to whimper between each word. Balen did not have the strength to return her embrace. Instead, he let her hold him as she sobbed. He couldn't bring his gaze off of the floor.

Balen watched as familiar hands unhooked the 3 buttons of his coat. The hands pushed the coat from his shoulders. The two hands became arms, arms that wrapped around Balen and hoisted him to his feet. The immense coat fell from his body, pulled down by its own weight. Balen was then lifted off of the ground. He knew he was being carried, but an immense exhaustion overcame him. He felt himself being carried up the great staircase. He wanted to sleep. He heard murmurings all around him. And he heard his mother's sobs.


	3. Chapter 2: Aftershock

The rock-shaper awoke in his own bed, though he felt unsure of how long he had slept. He sat up slowly and realized that he was wearing the same clothes he wore to the games. As he stood up, Balen felt as though he could continue to sleep if he returned to the bed. He stepped though his sleeping chamber and into the sitting room, continuing to move toward the open doorway that led out of his room.

He stopped abruptly, realizing suddenly that elves mingled directly outside of his room. He could hear quiet voices. Stepping forward, he made out the distinct voice of Ella. Her voice was too low for Balen to make out the words she spoke. He stepped out through the open doorway.

Several members of Lord Umber's council turned to gaze at Balen. All the voices had stopped when he stepped into the hallway. Lord Umber and Balen's mother were not among the small gathering of elves, and Balen wondered where his mother had been taken. Ella approached Balen, an uneasy smile on her face. Balen could see his mother's servants from over Ella's shoulders. They both appeared frozen in place as they gazed at Balen. He could sense a distinct feeling of restlessness around him; and he wondered if the strange expression on the servants face was in fact fear.

"My lord?" Ella stood before Balen. "How do you feel? Do you need a healer?"

Balen found Ella's question strange, for he was clearly without physical injury that required a healer.

"I am thirsty." Balen's voice was hoarse.

"Oh, of course!" Ella took Balen's hand lightly and led him back into the sitting room. "Please, sit." He sat the small table, as his mother's remaining servants entered the room. They stood at a distance from Balen.

"Where is my mother?" Balen asked Ella, when she returned with a mug of fresh water. Balen took it into his hands and drank its contents quickly. He craved more; the feeling of exhaustion and dehydration so unfamiliar to him. He handed the mug back to Ella, who turned to retrieve more.

"She is resting in Lord Umber's chambers," Ella said, giving Balen the replenished cup. "He summoned Crestamin to help calm her and let her rest. It is what she needed." Crestamin was the oldest healer in The Mountain and a member of the council. Balen did not like the thought of Crestamin placing his mother into a magic-induced slumber. He desperately wanted to see her, knowing how much she disliked being away from him for any stretch of time.

"Lord Balen?" Ella looked down, her voice hesitant. "What happened to you? It was like you were…" She paused, her eyes glancing around the room as if she was searching for the words around her. Ella sat next to Balen at the small table.

"I do not know, Ella. I am so sorry," Balen put his head in his hands, trying to shake the terrified look on Sal's face from his memory. "I never meant for it to happen." Ella turned to look away from Balen and quickly stood up. Balen followed her gaze and saw Lord Umber standing in the doorway of his room.

"Please, Ella, stay seated. I am happy to see Balen awake and well. And I am happy you are here to look after him," Lord Umber said as he approached them. His expression was that of stone, having neither happiness nor warmth.

"How is my mother? Can I see her?" Balen asked him.

"She is fine, Balen. I thought it was best for her to rest and calm herself completely. She was very worried for you, Balen. As we all were." Lord Umber stood before Balen, peering down at him from under his crown of black feathers.

"Lord Umber," Balen stumbled on his words, his mind racing for the proper thing to say. "All I can say is that I did not mean anyone any harm."

"I know that, Balen. It is quite remarkable that no one was harmed. But your… outburst made me realize how very much I have failed you. I should have helped you nurture the power within you. Aurek was a powerful rock-shaper, but you Balen, you are so very young to possess such a gift. It is remarkable. You are remarkable, Balen." As Balen looked into Lord Umber's pale, almost colorless eyes, he tried to decipher Lord Umber's true feelings regarding Balen, hiding behind the niceties. Lord Umber's expression gave no indication of anything but complete calmness.

Balen stood and walked nervously across the room. He paced back to where Lord Umber stood. Balen tried to collect his thoughts. "Please, Balen, you must relax yourself. I know it is difficult in light of what happened today, but try," Lord Umber said.

The young elf stopped and gazed into Lord Umber's eyes. "You are not angry with me? You are not going to punish me or banish me?"

"Oh, Balen," Lord Umber chuckled humorlessly. "Banish you? To where? The frozen wasteland? To live among the snow trolls? Balen, we have never banished anyone, and we certainly would not start with you. We just need to work on controlling your… ability."

The memory of the games suddenly flooded back into the forefront of Balen's thoughts. "That elf, Tundle," Balen inquired, "What power does he have? I have never seen anything like that before."

"Tundle possesses the ability to freeze his opponent's body and magical abilities, but they do not lose consciousness. The victim has no control over their body and is suspended from movement until Tundle stops his magic or it wears off. When I first discovered his powers and he was brought to me, I realized he could be quite an asset to us in many ways. He reluctantly tried out for the game masters from what appeared to be pressure from his peers. I suppose the allure of possibly beating Hussar was too great to pass up, even for a kind-hearted one such as Tundle."

"Are the games going to continue today?" Balen asked, still pondering Tundle's ability.

"Oh, it is far too late today for that. There has been some discussion of resuming them tomorrow. In fact, that is why I came to see if you had awoken, and we could discuss continuing the games."

"Yes, of course the games should continue," Balen said, nodding enthusiastically. "I know some of the elves have trained all year. They should get the chance to fight."

"You are right, Balen, they should. But since you find them _dreadful_ anyway, I was hoping you would agree to stay in your chambers or, at least, avoid the great room until we announce our victor."

Balen cringed at Lord Umber's words. He had called them dreadful right in front of Lord Umber, in front the entire council, in front of Sal and Ella and everyone else. Balen felt a deep shame and regret, realizing that he _was_ being banished in a way. But isn't this what Balen wanted all along? Balen felt unsure now, in the face of being forbidden to attend.

"I understand, Lord Umber," Balen said, his voice now small.

"It is for the best, Balen." Lord Umber approached Balen and placed his hands on Balen's arms. "We will talk again soon. I think it is time you to begin sitting at the Council's Table with us. Your father's seat has remained empty all of this time. I think the time has come for you to fill it." His thin lips curved into a small smile, but his eyes remained cold but thoughtful. Lord Umber turned and began to leave the room. Before exiting into the hallway, he turned to face Balen once more.

"In Lord Voll's name we carry on," Lord Umber said, his head bowing slightly. He was gone before Balen had a chance to repeat the phrase.

Balen turned to see Ella still sitting at the table in the corner of the room. Balen returned to the table and sat with her. He ran one hand through his hair, realizing how disheveled his appearance must be. He let out a heavy sigh.

"It appears I have been sent to my room until the games are over." Balen smiled at Ella, a small laugh escaping his lips.

Ella leaned across the table. Her impish grin spread across her face. "You don't like them, after all. But think about it," Ella glanced at the other two servants, Onna and Trinke, sitting on a large ottoman across the room. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I'm sure your mother will be expected to be present. You will be alone all day in this room. Well, alone except for me, if you wish." She leaned back, her smile widening.

Balen stared at her, unable to find anything to say in response. He felt a heat rising to his face.

"I need to go check on Mother," Balen finally said, standing up and beginning to walk toward the door. Onne and Trinke sprang to attention and began to follow him from a distance. Ella joined the other two as Balen left the room.

He quickly walked down the hallway and descended the short steps that led to Lord Umber's chambers. Several of the elder council members resided in the rooms on this lower tier. Outside of Lord Umber's chambers stood an elf that Balen recognized as one of Lord Umber's sworn protectors. Balen always found it strange that Lord Umber needed protection, but he was told that the Supreme Lord of The Mountain had always been protected by elves honored to be chosen. Balen wondered how Lord Voll came to be so cruelly put to death if he was surrounded by such chosen, honored elves. Where had they been the day he fell from the sky?

Balen approached the door, causing the elf to stiffen. "Lord Balen," the elf said, nodding briskly.

"Is my mother here?"

"Yes, but she is not to be disturbed."

"She would like to see me. I am sure of it." Balen took a step forward, which caused the elf to move in front of him, blocking Balen with his form.

"I was told she is not to be disturbed, my lord. By anyone. Lord Umber's words." The elf stood firmly in place. Balen glanced about and turned slowly around.

He heard the door latch move and the door open behind the guard. Gratefully, he looked to see Crestamin exiting the Lord's chambers. Crestamin's eyes met Balen's and lingered on him. It was obvious the healer was curious about Balen and the events of today.

"Is my mother awake? I know she wants to see me," Balen pleaded to Crestamin, hoping to gain entry. Balen could have easily passed through the stone walls into Lord Umber's chambers, but he didn't want to alarm anyone else today or cause any more disturbances.

"No, she remains asleep. But I agree, she would want to see you. Raiden, let him in to see his mother." The protector Raiden begrudgingly stepped aside, giving Balen a sideways glance. Crestamin approached Balen.

"You have to forgive him for being on high alert. This one got into quite the spat with Saladin, who is not quite as polite as yourself. But it has been a long day for all of us, so I am going to get some rest." Crestamin departed, and Balen pushed through the door into Lord Umber's chambers, his mother's servants trailing behind him.

The sitting room was larger than Balen's, but contained less furnishings. Where Balen's mother had obtained plush chairs topped with lush fabrics and decorative tables to furnish their shared quarters, Lord Umber's room was barren of color or decorative pieces. He had always heard that Lord Umber rarely sleeps, but rather, spends most of his time in the council rooms. Balen realized now that those rumors were more than likely true.

Balen stepped through an open doorway into the next room. The next room contained a long table with several chairs. Balen thought that this room must be where Lord Umber dined privately. Balen returned to the sitting room and walked through another open doorway on the opposite side of the room. Within was a massive sleeping chamber. The bed was large and sat on the far side of the room from the doorway in which Balen stood. He could not see his mother on the bed, but he saw Sal sitting on a small stool directly beside her. Sal had not noticed Balen, as he continued to look directly down at what could only have been Balen's mother. Sal's hand was on the mound of blankets under which his mother slept.

Balen stepped toward her, and Sal looked up to see him approaching. Sal stood up quickly, but did not smile. Balen stopped at the foot of bed. He saw his mother sleeping soundly on her side, facing where Sal was sitting. Balen felt an edge of apprehension in the presence of Sal. The image of Sal's terrified expression and outstretched hands as the floor cracked between them was embedded in Balen's mind. Furthermore, Sal always smiled when he saw Balen. In fact, Sal was rarely ever not smiling.

"How is she?" Balen said quietly, looking down at her. She looked beautiful; her long brown hair cascading across the pillow. Sal looked down at her and shrugged.

"I know she'll be upset when she wakes up." Sal sat back down beside her and placed his hand back onto the covers. "I told them to let her stay in her room, but Lord Umber insisted. You really frightened them, Balen."

"I know, I did not mean to. It just…"

"No, Balen." Sal interrupted, "I mean you really frightened them. I heard whisperings of wanting to seek out Aurek's help. To try to find him somehow. They want to give you your own protectors, but they wouldn't be protection for you. It'd be protection _against_ you. In case you even try to break The Mountain again."

"But I did not want to break anything. It was just…"

Sal cut Balen off once more, "If I were you, Balen, I would lay low. Stay as far away from the council as you can until this whole thing blows over." Balen understood Sal's warning, but he wondered how this would be possible when Lord Umber wanted Balen to share a seat at the Council's Table.

Balen nodded. He wanted to speak to his mother, but he thought it best to continue to let her sleep. He would deal with her tomorrow.

"Send for me if she needs me," Balen said. Sal did not respond, so Balen turned and began to leave.

"Balen," Sal said. Balen turned to look at Sal once more.

"Don't you ever put her in harm's way again."

Balen felt the exhaustion upon him once more. He wanted nothing more than to return to his bed, close his eyes, and let today's strange events melt away from him. He could think of nothing to say to Sal, though he felt nothing but shame. He turned and walked out of Lord Umber's chambers.


	4. Chapter 3: Beacon

Balen awoke with a start. He turned to see his mother lying peacefully at his side, which calmed him. She had found her way back to their room without Sal or another needing to fetch him. No hysterics, no commotion – Balen wanted nothing to do with either. Perhaps she cried out for Balen when she awoke in Lord Umber's unfamiliar chambers, but here she was now sleeping beside him. Balen touched her arm gently. Her eyes slowly opened, and she smiled warmly. She reached out and stroked Balen's cheek.

"I am so glad to see you are all right, Mother. I did not like leaving you down in Lord Umber's chambers." She moved closer to him, pressing herself against the length of Balen's side. He turned, and their faces were so close Balen could feel her slow and steady breathing against his lips. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am," he whispered, closing his eyes. He wrapped her arms tightly around her, pulling her tightly against him. She pressed her head into the crook his neck.

"Last night, Balen, it was like when you were a baby," she said, her voice quiet and fragile. "When I came in, you were so deeply asleep; I tried so hard not to wake you. But once I was lying next to you, I just watched you sleep. I watched every breath you took. And I put my hand right here." She lifted her hand and touched it gently against Balen's chest. "I felt every heartbeat. Do you remember when I did that every night?"

"No, Mother. I was just a baby."

"Yes, I suppose you are right." Balen felt a tear slide onto his neck, warm at first and then growing colder as it fell into the pillow.

"Mother, why are you crying?" He pressed away to see her face. Tears clung within her eyes, ready to fall.

"I miss that time. When you were just a baby. I held you all night long. Even then, you had such beautiful yellow hair. I knew you would be something wonderful, something incredible. And I was right. Look at you now." She smiled again and touched his face. Her eyes were sad, but the tears had stopped falling. "I was born to be your mother Balen. Recognizing Aurek was a gift from the High Ones. Without you, I have no reason to live."

Balen's stomach fell at her words. "Mother, do not say such things. You always think so lowly of yourself, and I do not understand why. You say, 'Oh Balen, you are so bright.' Or 'Oh Balen, you are so kind or so beautiful." Balen held her close to him again, trying to make her forget the dark thoughts that invaded her mind. "Where do you think I got all of that from?"

She did not respond, but the relaxing of her body as he held her let Balen know that things were going to be okay. He couldn't quite remember why he felt angry and unsettled towards her or anyone else. He hoped it would be longer than usual before the spiteful feelings crept back in.

* * *

The games continued that day without Balen in attendance. He insisted that his mother's servants attend to her and leave him alone. He had not forgotten about Ella's earlier, suggestive request to remain with him. And he could see the visible annoyance on her face as she turned away from him to follow behind his mother. He had resolved to never lose control of his mind or body, the way he did yesterday. Furthermore, he felt sure that he had no desire for Ella. Though he found her beautiful and sensual and he preferred her company over so many others, he felt passionless. Once his room was empty and he sat alone, Balen wondered if he would ever find any passion at all.

The day passed slowly. Balen spent a long time in the springs, enjoying the feeling of the warm water on his body. He stayed until his skin was wrinkled, which he reveled in immensely. He walked languidly back to his quarters. He could not remember the last time he was not trailed by servants. Balen decided that the first thing he would do when he became a true member of the council was to dismiss his servants, and they would tend solely to his mother. The thought crossed his mind that he could even get his own quarters, but he pushed the thought aside as soon as he thought it.

In his room, Balen retrieved the comb from the drawers in the sitting room. He looked at it for several moments. A familiar pang of anger rose up within him. He looked up at himself in the floor-length looking glass beside the dresser. He sighed and sat at the table. He combed through his hair that hung past his shoulders. He found it difficult to remove the tangles and wondered how his mother smoothed it so effortlessly. He became so frustrated at the task, that he cast the comb aside and let out an exasperated curse.

Once he was fully dressed and presentable, Balen went exploring in the council chambers. He wanted something to eat, but he could not find anything. Finally, he came across a servant who was holding a tray of food to bring to the council member's canopy at the games. Balen asked if he could partake with a few small morsels. He wished he did not have to ask for a servant's help, but Balen wasn't stubborn enough to go hungry. The servant insisted Balen take the entire tray, and before he could resist, she was gone to retrieve another. It was not until he started eating did he realize how immense his hunger had grown. First, he quickly devoured three of the swirled, soft rolls that the bakers called sweet swirls, not stopping to swallow before he took another bite. After he finished the rest of the delectable buns, he ate the remainder of the food presented on the tray, even the tarts made from speckled eggs and black mushrooms that Balen normally found revolting, but today he decided they were not. He didn't know which he enjoyed more: the eating itself or the eating without an audience.

After eating and perusing the council member's chambers, Balen returned up the stairs to his own room. In the hallway, he discovered Sal had been looking for him. Balen quickly realized that Sal was extremely relieved to have found Balen and had grown alarmed when he could not find him. In the sitting room, Sal described the first three fights of the games, which were uneventful. In the second magic-user round, Hussar had quickly defeated a plant-shaper, who stood no chance against the undefeated fire elf. The fourth fight had just commenced.

"Tundle went up against Hussar," Sal's eyes widened with excitement at the thought. Sal always spoke in large gestures, and Balen found himself urging Sal to tell him what had occurred.

"Well, wouldn't you know it, Balen. Hussar put forth a massive flame. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen him toss out before. He wanted this Tundle thoroughly _cooked_." Sal paused to let the suspense sink in.

"So, what happened?" Balen sat forward in his seat, eager to hear the results.

Sal grinned and looked directly at Balen. He remained silent.

"Well?" Balen wanted to physically shake the news out from Sal's lips.

"Let me just say, I think you should prepare yourself for a new neighbor." Sal laughed and stood up. "Tundle laid that hot-headed lout flat onto his back! You should have seen it, Balen! Everyone was like this," Sal made an aghast, open-mouthed expression before he erupted into another fit of laughter. "And watching that spindly elf drag Hussar across the floor…" Sal trailed off, looking away from Balen as he pictured it again. "They should have let you see it, Balen."

Balen smiled, and thought about the possibility of Tundle taking over the rooms Hussar had lived in all of Balen's life. "Hussar is out of the games?" Balen asked, unable to believe it wholly.

"Yes!" Sal's hands became fists, and he pumped them into the air. "Now all Tundle has to do is beat one more elf." Most of the non-magic user volunteers from the games came from the stock of hunters who hunted for game for the dwellers of The Mountain. Hunters were the only elves besides the chosen protectors who learned to wield weapons from a young age.

"Who is Tundle fighting?" Balen asked, though he assumed he would not be familiar with the elf.

"Raiden," Sal said, sitting back down at the table and leaning his chair back so it tipped on its two back legs. Balen recalled his earlier encounter with Raiden, one of the chosen protectors of Lord Umber, and how he had denied Balen entry to see his mother.

"Crestamin said you and he had an argument yesterday." Balen did not want to mention why they were fighting. He did not want to remind Sal of anything that occurred yesterday as a result of his out-of-control magic.

"That mongrel had it coming," Sal said, rocking back and forth on the askew chair.

"Did he?" Balen asked, hoping Sal would divulge further details.

"Ever since Lord Umber made him a Chosen, Raiden acts like he doesn't even remember my name. That we didn't hunt together for all of those years. I can't stand it when a fancy new place at the table changes an elf." Sal sat forward, letting the legs of the chair hit noisily against the floor. "That alone earned him a hit right in nose. But, he also tried to keep me from Hilleen which just wasn't going to happen." Sal sighed and shook his head.

"I am not going to change, Sal. I have always been in the council. Lord Umber giving me at seat at the Table doesn't mean anything to me."

Sal cocked an eyebrow at Balen and did not immediately respond.

After a few moments he said, "I know it doesn't, Balen. And sometimes I wonder what does mean something to you." Balen didn't speak for a time.

"Sweet swirls. Sweet swirls mean something to me," Balen said, smiling.

Sal laughed, shaking his head. "Well, you could afford to eat a few more of those – get some meat on you. I swear, Balen, you're nothing but skin and bird bones."

Balen laughed and was grateful that the tension was eased, and he did not want to bring up Raiden or their argument again.

Sal left Balen alone once more as he watched Sal quickly descend the stairs to the great room and walk out of sight. Balen passed by Hussar's quarters and wondered what it would be like if Tundle acquired the Victor's Suite. He felt excited by the thought; not because he particularly cared for Tundle, but he liked the idea of a change in the faces he saw day in and day out in the upper tiers of The Mountain. As he continued to think about it, Balen realized he would be excited by any change at all. The sameness and familiarity of The Mountain and its dwellers made most elves believe The Mountain was a perfect paradise on the World of Two Moons. Many felt as though they were chosen to live here and, therefore, living here was a gift. Most also felt Aurek, his father, gave them the gift of The Mountain. Balen had heard the tale of how The Mountain came to be a thousand times. And though his father shaped the very foundation of The Mountain all the way up to its summit, Balen was ironically the only elf that ever lived in The Mountain without Aurek at the helm. It was difficult for Balen to not believe Aurek's abandonment of The Mountain was centered entirely on his birth.

When Sal visited Balen once more, Balen could feel the cool air against the stone of The Mountain and knew that night had fallen. Sal stumbled into the room with his mother, who seemed to be in high spirits from the games.

"Will you not lay down, Sal," his mother said, leading him to the plush couch and fluffing a pillow to place under his head. "This is what happens when you drink too much purple wine!"

"This is true, my lady," Sal slurred, the wide grin never leaving his face. He flopped heavily onto the couch. He reached out for Balen's mother and pulled her down onto the couch with him. She squealed at him but did not object as he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to the couch with him. "Hilleen, tell him what happened!"

Balen's mother looked up at Balen and smiled, jumping up from the couch. Sal's arm fell onto the floor, and his eyes closed. He seemed to be fast asleep before Balen's mother reached him on the other side of the room.

"Oh, my sweet one, if only you could have seen it! That remarkable lad Tundle won the games! It was quite unexpected, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, quite," Balen said. He felt an excitement humming within him. He also felt perturbed that he missed the first games that ever sounded the least bit interesting.

"Apparently they allowed Hussar to sleep one more night in his quarters, but he refused and made quite a few distasteful remarks." Her forehead crinkled as she recalled the scene in her mind, and then waved her hand before her as if to wipe it from thought.

As they prepared for bed, his mother continued to describe the events of the day to him. As they curled up together atop the fur blankets, she began to talk about Aurek and the things he had told her during their short time together. Balen had heard all of this before, but he enjoyed hearing his mother talk about his father. He hoped that he would pick up some new revealing fact that would make his father's image clear to him. However, he was always left with a vague outline of a faceless elf who was very tall and could glide in the air.

The next day, the halls were quiet again with the excitement of the games already passed. The council would hold a large banquet feast this evening in honor of the victor, where all the fighters were invited. For most, this was their only meal in the presence of the council members and the only day they spent in the upper tiers of The Mountain.

Balen watched his mother as her dress for the banquet was fitted and altered. He enjoyed the tanners' company and liked to listen to them speak with his mother. As he sat on an ottoman near his mother, a jolt went through him as if he was struck by a bolt of tiny lightening.

He sat forward with a start, his breath catching in his throat. His mother looked at him, the flowing gown being sewn up her side where she stood. Balen felt the shock again – a pulse of energy he had never felt before and could not place or describe. He stood up frantically and stared wide-eyed at his mother. She stepped toward him, holding the dress close to keep it from falling.

"Balen? Balen, what is it?" She brushed his hair away from his face.

"Did you not feel that, Mother?" He did not have words to describe the feeling. Just then, he felt it again, this time stronger, and it caused his heart to beat wildly. A true sense of fear overcame him, for now he knew the feeling came not from a what, but from a who.

He stood as still as he could, waiting for the next pulse of energy to come though him. After several moments, his mother staring at him with utmost concern, Balen felt nothing.

"Is it happening again, Balen? Is it your magic?" She stroked his hand. Balen did not understand what she meant at first.

As his head began to clear, he tried to reach out with his invisible sensors, through the stone, and feel for where the great energy came from. He sifted through the countless vibrations of the dwellers within The Mountain walking on the stone floor or touching the stone walls.

"No, Mother. It is not me." He stepped away and turned his back to her. Closing his eyes, he tried again to feel the very stone all around him. He imagined himself plunging deeper into The Mountain until he felt himself at its very base. It seemed impossible to find the source of the power among the countless elves around him. With his fingers tingling with the effort as he felt the stone around him, he felt the jolt once more. This time he knew it was magic. He was feeling magic upon the stone. It was a magic he had never felt before.

"Someone is in The Mountain," Balen whispered. "Someone strange." He turned to face his mother.

"What do you mean someone is in The Mountain? Balen, I do not understand. Tell me what is wrong."

He did not respond.

"Trinke, could you bring, Sal? No, bring Lord Umber," his mother commanded, turning to her servant.

Trinke nodded and walked out of the room. Ella looked wide-eyed at Balen.

Balen waited as each agonizing moment passed. He could no longer feel any strange, intense vibrations upon the stone floor. Though a part of him was desperate to find out for himself the source of the new magic feeling, he could not bring himself to leave the confines of his room. Each elf in the room was silent, glancing with anticipation at the door. As time continued to move slowly by, Balen felt a rising anxiety within him as no one entered the room. Balen thought surely Trinke would have had enough time to find Lord Umber and return by now.

The sound of fast approaching footsteps broke the immense silence that pervaded the room. Balen's could feel the queasy sensation of his stomach falling when he heard Sal's voice.

"Hilleen! Lord Balen!" Sal was out of breath as he rushed through the doorway. He breathed in deeply, swallowing hard to catch his breath.

"Where is Lord Umber?" Hilleen stood and approached Sal. He waved her words away with his hands, continuing to breathe hard.

"No, Hilleen. You must stay in this room. I don't know who they are or what they want, but Lord Umber is speaking with them _right now_. Please, Hilleen, stay here where I know I can keep you safe."

Hilleen nodded slowly and sat back down. Her face had lost its color. "Have trolls found us?" She put her hand over her mouth, and Balen could see her visibly trembling with fright. "Humans?" She said the word as if she could see them before her very eyes, coming for her.

Balen shook his head. He watched his mother, but his mind raced, pondering all the possibilities. He knew as sure as his name, as sure as the air he breathed, that whoever had invaded The Mountain used magic. Powerful magic.

"Elves," Balen said. Sal looked at Balen, the surprise on his face confirming Balen's guess. "Where are they?" Balen asked.

"They were at the Great Door, but Lord Umber saw them to the assembly hall. When I was told, I came here."

Balen could not remember the last time he had descended to the assembly hall at the base of The Mountain, but he knew the way. He knew it was wrong and selfish, but Balen ran down the long staircase to the great room. He knew it was better to stay with his mother, to keep her safe and not cause her to worry. His desire to see this unknown threat with his own eyes swept away his reason. On the other side of the great room, he continued to run faster than he had ever run in his life straight through the walls of the hallways that lead to the lower tiers of The Mountain. He felt the stone effortlessly mold around him as he passed through, returning to its former shape as soon he was on the other side. He heard the alarmed gasps and inquired cries of elves as he went, but he would not stop.

He knew he was getting closer as he raced down a second long and curving staircase. His lungs began to burn for air, sweat streaking off his brow. Balen pushed these feelings aside as he began to close in on the assembly hall. It had been enough time since Sal had told him the news that Balen hoped they were still there.

Abruptly Balen stopped as he turned a final corner and was impeded by a crowd of elves that strained on the tips of their feet to get a look inside of the assembly hall. Balen looked frantically around for a way into the room but could find no crevice in the crowd with which he could squeeze through. Desperately, he ran to the wall and felt a path through the stone that would lead him into the assembly hall, bypassing the crowd. The thickness of the stone, however, caused him to hesitate. He had never passed through stone as thick as the obstacle before him. Nearby he heard one elf murmur to another, "Did you say there was a tall one? Tall as Aurek?"

Balen's heart seized to beat for a moment at the sound of his father's name. He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath silently and pushed into the thick wall. He was afraid to open his eyes in the seconds that passed, encased in stone. Balen knew the stone would not harm him if he did, but he preferred the darkness behind closed eyes to the darkness of suffocating stone. Once through, he felt the cool air envelop him before he opened his eyes again. He was once again surrounded by a crowd of elves who had come to see the strange intruder. As Balen searched for a gap through the crowd he heard a clear voice not far from where he stood. The voice was strange, in both tone and emphasis. Balen thought perhaps the elf did not speak his tongue, but as the voice became clearer to him, he understood the words.

"… many other tribes. We thought all had perished in Blue Mountain."

Balen no longer cared for kindness and pushed between two elves in front of him. He felt himself involuntarily using his rock-shaping magic to move the elves apart enough for him to squeeze between them through the crowd. He heard the familiar voice of Lord Umber.

"No. But no dwellers of the Blue Mountain remain here. As you probably witnessed, there are few elves here with the gift of flight."

"What, then, do you call yourselves if you are not Gliders?" asked the strange elf. Balen could see, as he got closer, the small group of elves that stood before Lord Umber. He scanned them, noting the distinctly taller elf, but realized quickly that his father could not be among the group. He wanted a clear view of them, and he wanted it so desperately his heart continued to pound violently within his chest though he had stopped running. _Who are you?_ The question pounded in his head with each heartbeat. He could feel a strong tingling sensation in her fingertips. It was as if he could feel a pulsating magic coming from the band of elves. He felt immense power, ancient power emanate unlike anything he had felt in his life. _Who are you? _

With a final push, he stood a few short steps from Lord Umber, whose back was to Balen. He watched the strange elf as Lord Umber said, "We are simply dwellers of The Mountain."

The elf stood before the rest, facing Lord Umber directly. A wild array of flaxen hair was gathered partially up with a thin piece of leather atop his head. His eyes were a deep, crystalline blue and flashed with an intensity that Balen found enthralling. Light tufts of hair sprouted from the contours of his face, giving him a distinct animalistic quality that left Balen mesmerized. He wore a vest of fur that encased his shoulders, the sleeves wrapped tightly about him with straps of crisscrossing leather. His chest and abdomen otherwise were bare of any covering. His skin was taught, and Balen had never seen anyone with the physical form this strange elf possessed. His legs were covered with dark leather, decorated with a yellow loincloth emblazoned with a strange green-blue feature. Thick leather boots that extended up his calf, capped with thick fur, covered his feet.

Balen stood, enraptured, absorbing the striking image of the elf. The elf rubbed his chin, looking at Lord Umber with perhaps confusion, though Balen could not be certain. Another elf, slightly taller than the first, as tall as Balen himself, stepped forward. The second elf had rich, deep skin that perplexed Balen immensely. His hair was also a flaxen color but hung differently about the elf's face.

"Lord Umber," the second elf spoke, hesitating slightly as he said the supreme leader's name. "We have the ability to hear the cries of others of our kind. We followed the signal that came from within this mountain."

The second elf glanced over at the first, who nodded in a sort of approval for him to continue. "We thought only to find the source of the furor. We came to offer our help. If you were in need, that is." The elf stopped and looked directly at Balen. "It came from the rock-shaper there, no?" The elf gestured toward Balen, and he saw the glinting eyes of the strange elves move to look at him as he stood, paralyzed, the crowd of Mountain elves stirring behind him.


	5. Chapter 4: Cold Hospitality

Lord Umber turned quickly search for Balen within the crowd. When their eyes met, Balen could not decipher the look upon Lord Umber's face. Though he kept a calm and stoic visage, Balen could see the tightness around Lord Umber's mouth that hid his true countenance. Balen felt as though he might fall to the floor, for his breaths were quick and shallow and his heart would not stop its incessant, violent thumping.

"Come forward," Lord Umber motioned for Balen to approach, but Balen could not bring himself to move his feet. "Come forward, now please, Balen." Balen forced himself to lurch forward, and finally he was standing beside Lord Umber, almost an arm's reach from the new, strange elves. Balen could not bring his eyes up from the floor to gaze at them so closely. His face felt hot as fiery eyes remained on him. "These elves believe we are in some sort of trouble. They could feel your rock-shaping across the world. Is that not remarkable, Balen?" Balen knew Lord Umber well enough to hear the true meaning being his words: it was not remarkable and he was not pleased.

Balen could not lift his eyes, and he stared relentlessly at his feet. He could see his hands at his sides. They trembled uncontrollably.

"Hey, it's all right. Don't be afraid. I am Cutter, and this is my son, Suntop. He can feel magic. He felt yours, and that's how we found you." Balen felt the courage to lift his eyes and look at Cutter. Finally he looked at Suntop, who was continuously looking at Balen with an expression that felt kind but also full of curiosity. However, Balen knew upon looking directly into Suntop's eyes that he was in fact familiar with this elf.

"I felt your magic, too." Balen's voice was weak and quiet. "When you touched the stone. You were searching." The origin of the powerful eruptions of magic he felt earlier became clear to him as he spoke to Suntop.

"Yes," Suntop said, smiling warmly. "You are…" The brown-skinned elf looked at Cutter and back at Balen. Suntop wore a tunic of white and rich purple, a glittering ruby-red medallion hanging from his neck from a chain of gold. Balen noted how distinctly different Cutter seemed from his son, in both appearance and presence, and Balen felt perplexed all the more. "You are very powerful," Suntop said.

"And young," Cutter peered at Balen. "You can't be any more than two-eights. Incredible." Cutter cocked his head to one side.

Lord Umber interjected, "Age is but a frivolity."

A stunningly beautiful, dark skinned female elf with large green eyes smiled at Balen, a warmth emanating from her that made the trembling of his hands cease. The fear that overshadowed him drifted away and was replaced with a longing to understand who the strange elves before him were. How did they feel his rock-shaping magic and where did they come from? Though Balen had grown taller than Lord Umber, the supreme leader's presence loomed over Balen, disallowing him from freely asking the questions he desperately wanted answers to.

"Please, Cutter and your Wolfriders, I desire greatly for you all to join us for our Victor's Feast later this evening. All the preparations are made, and I know other members of my council will want to meet you. There are many stories, I am sure, to share between us. I can answer your questions as best I can, and you can tell us all about your 'tribe,' as you call it." Lord Umber turned, beckoning a dozen servants and several of the Chosen forward and ordered them to escort the Wolfriders. "I will show you to chambers which I hope will make you feel most comfortable." Lord Umber walked with Cutter at his side, heading for the long curving staircase that ascended to the next tier of The Mountain.

Balen watched with fascination as the rest of the Wolfriders filed out behind Lord Umber and his servants. His eyes darted from one elf to the next as he tried to absorb every strange face, hair color, and clothing. Glimpses of lupine shaped decorations on chains of gold and scabbards tied to hips allowed Balen to connect the elves to their title: Wolfriders.

A stout elf with wild yellow hair framing his face looked about apprehensively. Leaning in close to the elf walking at his side, he grumbled, "I don't like this one bit. I'd give anything to turn tail and get out of here." The other elf was nodding in agreement as they passed by Balen. He heard the chuckle another elf. "It's like old Winnowill will pop out of the shadows any moment," he said, smirking to another.

Balen's brow furrowed as he tried to determine the meaning behind the elves comments. All he knew was a distinct feeling that an apprehension was present among the Wolfriders that Balen did not see in their leader, Cutter. Soon, the strangers had departed the assembly hall and the remainder of the gathered crowd began to disperse, whispering quietly to one another.

"Come, Lord Balen," Galazar said behind Balen, who turned to face the member of Lord Umber's Chosen protectors and recent participant in the games. His face was that of icy stone. He turned and began walking to the stairs. Moments passed before Balen reacted to Galazar's command, and Balen had to rush to catch up with Galazar who briskly headed up The Mountain.

"Where did they come from?" Balen asked as they ascended the stairs. Balen found it difficult to keep up with Galazar's pace. Galazar did not respond. "They all had weapons. Did you see how they all had knives or axes or those long sticks with the string… the ones that shoot arrows."

"Bows," Galazar said.

"Yes, bows!" Balen burst with excitement. "Did you see the one with the bow as tall as he was? I have never seen…"

Galazar abruptly stopped and spun around to face Balen. "That's enough Balen," Galazar snarled, his once placid expression twisted into anger. He snatched Balen's arm and shook him once. "I know about these Wolfriders. I know your father did not want me to know, but he couldn't shield it from me." Balen felt startled once more as Galazar let go of him roughly. Galazar exhaled deeply, shaking his head as he looked up into The Mountain.

"Lord Voll didn't fall out the sky because of trolls. Not truly." Galazar pierced Balen with a stony stare. "It was these Wolfriders. They twisted his mind." His words were like the hisses of a venomous snake. "I don't trust them and neither should Lord Umber."

Galazar continued the climb up the stairs, and Balen followed blindly and silently, his thoughts racing with Galazar's realization. It made no sense to Balen. Lord Voll died while trying to discover the lost home of the High Ones. Balen was sure of it, having heard the story countless times since he was a child. He knew of his father's people, The Gliders, and their great ancient home of Blue Mountain that fell countless turns of the seasons ago. Never in his young life had Balen ever believed that other elves dwelled outside of The Mountain. And a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach arose at the thought that other elves in The Mountain such as Galazar knew of other elves but had no desire to meet them.

The pair continued their ascent to the highest tier of The Mountain. Galazar stopped at the base of the great staircase. "You should remain in your chambers until the feast is announced. Do not forget what I told you." Galazar gestured for Balen to continue up the stairs. Balen wanted to ask Galazar questions about what he knew about the Wolfriders and how his father Aurek knew of the Wolfriders. Instead, he quickly raced up the stairs and entered the quarters he shared with his mother.

"Oh, praise to Lord Voll! Balen!" His mother was in his arms, and she held on to him tightly. "You ran out of here so fast. I was so worried!" Balen felt her hot tears fall onto his neck and shoulders as she continued to hold on to him. He ran his hands through her soft brown hair, though he truly wanted to let go.

"I am all right, Mother. I promise. See?" He took a step back and held out his hands. "I wanted to see them. The elves." Balen looked over at Sal who stood across the room. "I did not mean to run out, but you would not have let me go."

Sal approached Balen and placed his arm around his mother's shoulder. She wiped her eyes but appeared somewhat calmer. "What did you see?" Sal asked.

Balen opened his mouth, the images of the Wolfriders flashing through his mind, but before he could bring himself to describe the elves, Galazar's words repeated themselves in his mind. _I don't trust them_. Attempting to collect his thoughts, he poured himself a glass of water from the clay pitcher upon the small table. He drank slowly. He could feel Sal and his mother's patient eyes upon him.

"They call themselves Wolfriders." With those words, Balen began to recount all he had seen including every detail that popped into his mind. He told them about Cutter and the elf called Suntop who knew Balen was a rock-shaper – the elf named Suntop that felt it from across the world when Balen sent a trembling fissure through the heart of The Mountain.

"They assumed we needed help. That we were in trouble." Balen stopped, his mother and Sal captivated by his words.

"Well that's a relief," Sal said. "They just figured someone was trying to destroy us all when Balen, well, tried to destroy us all." He grinned widely at Balen, causing Balen to chuckle despite the fact that Sal's words hurt him.

"My sweet one would never _mean_ to hurt anyone, Sal. Do not say things like that, even in jest," his mother said. "So they must be leaving then, right? Clearly, we are all right. We do not need any help." His mother walked across the room and retrieved the comb from the drawers. She walked over to Balen and began to comb his hair. The sensation made him cringe, and he wanted to spin around and wrench the comb from her hand. He thought it better to save that argument for another time.

"Lord Umber invited them to the Victor's Feast," Balen said, sitting down to rest on the large ottoman. His mother continued to smooth out his hair with loving strokes. He thought of how close the Wolfriders must be to him right now. Perhaps he could slip out of the room again and try to find them.

"Wolfriders. Such a peculiar name, don't you think?" His mother returned the comb to the drawer and sat at Balen's side. "Were they riding wolves?"

"No," Balen said. "But they had pictures on their clothes and even their weapons that looked like animals. They dressed so strangely."

"Wolves are terrifying," Sal said. "Some of the hunters run into packs of them when you're a few days travel away. You rarely see them, but they let out a howl. It'll send a shudder right through you." Sal bristled at the thought. "I can't imagine how you go about riding one. Or why you'd want to."

Balen tried to picture a wolf in his mind, but he couldn't.

"I should go help with the preparations. Balen, would you stay here and look after your mother? And not go running off to make new friends?" Sal leaned to Balen's mother and embraced her lovingly.

"Yes. But we are going to the feast as soon as they announce it." Balen knew he could not believe what Galazar told him. He felt a deep curiosity for the elves and didn't believe them to be distrustful.

"Where did they come from, anyway?" Sal asked as he moved toward the door. He stopped in the doorway.

"I do not know. Far away, I think."

"Hmmm," Sal shrugged and was gone.

His mother had the servants ready their clothing for the feast. Balen had an assortment of fine tunics, coats, and high-collared vests he wore to extravagant feasts and other various events. Usually, Balen allowed his mother to dress him how she liked. Today, he wanted something that didn't make him feel like a child or a fool. He discarded her first choice of a gauzy, white tunic with dreadfully long sleeves. He thought about the worn leather and furs the Wolfriders wore. He was eager to see them again.

Balen looked at the pieces strewn about and felt unsatisfied with the choices.

"What about this one, Balen?" Ella held out a dark indigo doublet made from fine leather. The long sleeves were scalloped at the edges with black stitching making an intricate design. He took it from Ella's grasp and pulled his arms through the sleeves. Ella latched each closure up his chest, carefully fastening the larger closure at the neck.

"Very nice, Lord Balen," Ella smiled and fetched a pair of light gray leather pants. Balen looked at his reflection in the tall looking glass. He was satisfied with his attire, though he always felt as though he wore things that were made for someone else. However, Balen was used to that pervasive feeling and chose not to dwell on it. His mother wore a splendid silk dress that fell to the floor and moved like liquid. Her servants worked to pin up her hair, placing thin strings of twinkling crystals which glittered when light touched them. Balen thought he might ask Ella to pull back his hair with a leather strap, but knowing how much his mother would protest, he decided against it.

Balen listened silently as his mother chatted idly with her servants. They hardly mentioned the Wolfriders, except when discussing how the strangers would be present at the feast. Constant images of the Wolfriders flashed through his mind, and he speculated wildly about where they came from and why Galazar thought they had a part in Lord Voll's death. The idea of it contrasted so utterly with what Balen knew to be true about the history of Blue Mountain, Balen concluded that Galazar was mistaken. He thought about Suntop, who possessed such a strange and powerful magic that Balen felt directly through the stone, and how impossible is seemed that he could have felt Balen crack the rock of The Mountain. He wondered how very strong it must have been for an elf to feel it so very far away.

"Balen?" His mother stood before him. "They have announced us. It's time to go." She held out her hand, which Balen took. "I can tell these Wolfriders have you nervous. Just know that there is nothing to fear, no matter who they are or what they want. You are our most precious treasure, Balen." As she spoke, Hilleen rested her head on Balen's shoulder momentarily as they walked. He wanted to tell his mother how he felt more excited than nervous. They didn't frighten him anymore, and he wanted to lay his eyes upon them again more than anything.

As mother and son began to descend the grand staircase, Balen could hear and feel the commotion in the great room. The setup from the previous day's games had been completely dismantled already. Dwellers of The Mountain mingled in the great room, which was connected to the banquet hall through a massive archway of etched stone. The crowd signified to Balen that the feast had not yet begun, and a drudging string of courtesies and greetings lay before him. Familiar faces became clear as he descended closer into the massive room, and he could already see them turning to look at him. His mother's words rang through his head once more. _You are our most precious treasure_. Seeing the innumerable group of his people below, Balen realized that every living soul in the room knew his name. Balen never quite thought, until that moment, how much he wished they didn't. Balen knew what being a treasure to the dwellers of The Mountain truly meant: he belonged to them. The thought was grievous and stifling, and it was a thought Balen struggled to push from his mind like he did so many others.

His mother led Balen through the crowd. He heard his mother greeting others as they passed, but Balen's attention had become fixed on the tall archway leading to the feast. An elf Balen did not know saw Hilleen and approached her. She had pale blue eyes and long brown hair, similar to his mother's. Hilleen recognized the elf immediately, and said, "It has been too long since we spoke, Elyra!"

"Balen," his mother said, "This is Elyra. We were very close, before I recognized your father."

Balen nodded and smiled, courteously.

"Have you seen the Wolf Riders?" Elyra paused between each word of the new elf tribe's name, making it sound even more strange and foreign.

Balen turned and looked over behind him to see Ella's eyes meet his. She smiled in her usual sultry way, which caused Balen to smile back. Balen heard his mother continue to speak to Elyra, though Balen was thoroughly disinterested in making small talk. He walked up to Ella, looking for some semblance of a reprieve.

"You look utterly dashing, Lord Balen," Ella continued to smile up at him. Trinke and Onna looked at Ella distastefully. Balen pulled Ella away from the group, which Ella enjoyed and giggled as they created a small distance between themselves and the others.

"Do you think the Wolfriders are in there?" Balen said, motioning with a jerk of head to the large, open archway.

"I don't know," she replied. Her eyes brightened. "Do you want me to go and see?" Balen hesitated for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to know, but he wondered if he was being too rash.

"You stay here, and I'll go see if they are in there. And I'll come back and let you know. If anyone asks, I'll just tell them I'm making sure your seating placement is adequate," she said with a sly grin. Balen nodded, and she darted off in the direction of the archway. Balen watched her until her figure was blocked by the crowd. He returned to his mother who continued to speak excitedly with Elyra.

Balen listened as his mother reminisced with Elyra about days Balen could only assume were before he was born. He couldn't keep himself from looking in the direction of doorway, hoping to see Ella in the crowd, returning with news.

"How long until the feast do you suppose?" Balen asked his mother and Elyra, though he knew they knew as much as he did.

"They have to present Tundle and other fighters first," Elyra said to Balen.

Their conversation continued without Balen, who looked around absent-mindedly. A rush of relief came over him as he saw Ella approach excitedly. He stepped away from his mother once more, not wanting her to hear Ella's report.

"I saw them!" she said, her voice an excited squeal. Balen put his forefinger to his lips in an effort to keep her voice down. "They're speaking with the council members. I didn't get a good look at them, but you were right. They don't look like anyone I've ever seen before!"

"Yes, I know!" Balen said, almost unable to keep his own excitement at bay.

"But they are very beautiful," she looked back at the archway and then back at Balen. "Don't you think they are beautiful?"

"Yes," Balen said. "But strange and maybe dangerous." Ella's brow furrowed, and Balen wished he had not divulged his fears. Her expression turned to a familiar, flirty smile.

"Like you, Balen. Strange and maybe dangerous." Her smile widened. He knew that his mother and her servants would be appalled at her candor, but Balen found it exhilarating. He felt an erogenous sensation that made his face hot with embarrassment.

"Look," Ella pointed to the archway, and Balen saw Lord Umber emerge into the crowd. He stepped up to a platform, to the left of the archway that elevated him above the mass of elves. He put his arms out, which hushed the elves quickly. Balen quickly returned to his mother's side, and Ella trailed behind him. He saw the Wolfriders standing below the platform, awaiting the arrival of the fighters.

"Before I announce our Victor and valiant fighters of the games, please join me in welcoming our guests. They have traveled far to our mountain, to unite our kind. Dwellers of The Mountain, The Wolfriders!" Lord Umber motioned to the Wolfriders, and the crowd bowed their heads respectfully and silently.

"Before we feast with our new friends, let us recognize those who fought gallantly in the games!" The crowd began to part as several servants created a path for the fighters to enter the great room. Keeping to the yearly tradition, the magic users were announced first.

"Galazar!" Lord Umber shouted and the crowd watched as the sender walked down the path to the archway. He stared straight ahead, never acknowledging the crowd or the words of encouragement they said as he passed. All Balen could think of was his snarling words of warning about the Wolfriders.

Lord Umber proceeded to announce the next magic-user, a plant shaper, who took the honorable walk to the archway. The next elf caused the crowd to ignite with yells and hollering words of excitement.

"Hussar!" shouted Lord Umber. The fire elf stepped through the crowd, a scowl permanently etched on his face. Balen thought about all the times he wanted Hussar to be beaten in the games, and even though he had not witnessed it himself, he smiled to himself as Hussar passed by.

Lord Umber announced the three non-magic fighters, all of whom Balen did not see fight. They each walked to the archway, some flashing their weapon of choice to the crowd.

"Raiden!" Lord Umber announced. Balen watched Lord Umber's chosen protector walk down the path and felt amazed at how Tundle bested such a strong, powerful fighter.

"And the victor of our games, Tundle!" Balen could hear the excited shouts of the crowd as Tundle took the walk to the archway. Tundle smiled widely and looked about at the crowd with wonder-struck eyes. Balen let out a quick laugh, before he stopped himself. Never had Balen seen an elf take the victor's walk with such amazement, rather than the normal calm, iron-clad demeanor.

"And now, in honor of our great games and victor, we feast!" The crowd began to move toward the archway, and Balen felt his heart quicken with excitement. He hoped he would be able to see the Wolfriders from his seat at the council member's table. Balen finally walked under the archway into the familiar surroundings of the banquet hall. The ceilings were lower in the room, making noises louder, and, therefore, the banquet hall always seemed livelier than the great room ever could be. Rows of long tables with tall-backed, elegantly shaped stone seats filled the floor of the room. The seats were already beginning to be filled, as servants with pitchers of sweet, purple wine filled waiting goblets. A massive candelabrum hung from the center of the room, a relic shaped by Aurek. The candles were perched on swirling pieces of smooth stone that stretched almost to each corner of the room. Balen remembered when he learned that it once took at least two dozen elves the better part of a day to light each candle before Hussar came into his powers. They then raised the massively heavy piece, which took several elves with the gift of levitation to do. Today, the lights danced beautifully in the otherwise dim hall, giving all of its inhabitants a beautiful, soft glow upon their cheeks.

Balen stood beside his mother, who was saying her farewells for now to Elyra. He was saddened to see her go, only because he enjoyed the moments his mother's attentions weren't squarely rooted into him. He would be sitting at the council member's table, which was at the far end of the room from the archway. He routinely sat between Lord Umber and Crestamin, the eldest and most powerful healer in The Mountain. His mother sat at the table perpendicular to the end of his table with all the lifemates and family of the esteemed council. The victor's table was always in the center of the room, surrounded by many but far from the council. Balen wondered if he would have to witness Hussar tossing balls of fire from one hand to the other or extinguishing and lighting the lamps upon each table.

The Wolfriders, surprisingly, were gathered around and sitting at the table directly across from his mother's. From his seat, he would be so close to the Wolfriders that he could hear their conversations. Perhaps he would be able to speak with them, too. He had so many questions swirling in his thoughts, but he didn't know if he could ever have the courage to ask them.

It was customary that once the feast was announced, a first course of light fare and wine was served as everyone continued to socialize and mill about. When Lord Umber took his seat at the council member's table, the remainder of the courses was served and music would be performed. Though the games left most in high spirits, the banquet hall was quiet and reserved once Lord Umber took his place. Even the wine didn't keep the dwellers of The Mountain from letting inhibitions scatter to the wind. But that time had yet to come, and Balen reveled in the electric energy that filled the room. The excitement of Tundle winning the games could only have been surpassed by the strange appearance of the Wolfriders. And as far as Balen could tell, everyone was past his indiscretion at the games.

Balen began to walk closer to the council member's table, when he was suddenly seized by the arm.

"Balen!" exclaimed Yadva, a jovial, white haired elf who was lifemates with Crestamin. She was an elder among The Mountain dwellers, but she had a spirited, youthful way about her manners. Since she never strayed far from her lifemate's side, she was practically a member of the council herself. Hilleen once told Balen that Yadva was never chosen to bear a child, despite her desperately wanting to be a mother. Balen always found this to be utterly cruel of Lord Umber and the council, since it was Crestamin who exclusively assisted in the conceiving of children. Balen once asked: why didn't Crestamin just give her a child without the council's permission? He was told the idea was absurd.

"Yadva, how lovely it is…" She began to pull Balen towards the council member's table before he could finish his polite greeting.

She looked over in the direction of the Wolfriders and back at Balen, a shining smile on her face. "Earlier this evening the council was making introductions with the Wolfriders. Interesting elves, aren't they?" Balen was not given a chance to answer before Yadva continued. "Well, wasn't I shocked to hear that they had a young one just like you. A little baby!" She became louder as her excitement level rose.

"A baby?" Balen knew he did not see a baby among them, though it was possible he missed it in his few glimpses of the tribe up close.

"Well, not a _baby_. He's quite a strapping young boy, actually. Here, I will introduce you!" Before Balen could protest or consent, though he wasn't sure which one he would do regardless, Yadva led him closer to where the Wolfriders gathered. Soon Balen was standing directly before two elves. The one on the left, who Balen surmised was older than the other, took a few steps back and walked away from Yadva and Balen. The other elf, now left alone, watched with a smirk as he left and then looked at Yadva with recognition.

"Hello!" Yadva chimed, which made the elf smile. Balen stared at the elf, trying to absorb every detail about him.

"Balen, this is Arrowstorm. The two of you are just about the same age. Is that not wonderful? When your Cutter chief told me you were the youngest, I was so happy, because Balen doesn't know anyone his age. Now you two can be friends!" Balen heard her speaking, but he continued to look at the elf, whose gaze had drifted to Balen's upon their introduction. Yadva glanced between the two elves, smiled, and walked off, satisfied with her handiwork.

The elf she called Arrowstorm was slight of frame but had a taut, muscular build in his shoulders, arms, and legs. His legs were covered with dark brown, almost black, leather leggings, and on his feet were short boots made from the same leather. A small blade in a pale tan sheath was attached to his right thigh, secured by two straps on the top and bottom of the sheath. His chest was covered with a lighter brown, sleeveless tunic, which was without any decoration or design. The tunic looked to be made of the finest leather Balen had ever seen and was topped with a high collar that jutted up and around his neck. Both of his forearms were wrapped in dark brown leather straps, and Balen did not know why one would wear such wrappings. The features of his face were sharp: high, angular cheekbones and a thin, small nose. All of his features were framed by a mass of thick auburn hair that fell down a little past his shoulders. A strap of tan leather, a distinctly different color than anything else he wore, was tied around his forehead; the ties weaving through his thicket of unruly hair.

Balen noticed his features and wanted to look away, but Arrowstorm's eyes were like a trap Balen couldn't escape. His eyes were like two pools of glistening honey or like the brilliant pieces of amber Balen would discover around The Mountain. Despite their beauty, it was the shimmering glint of fire that burned within them that pulled Balen in like a fish on a line.

"You're the rock-shaper," Arrowstorm said, peering at Balen. "The one that sent out the signal."

Balen's face immediately flushed, though he hoped Arrowstorm would not notice.

"I-It wasn't a signal," Balen blurted out, the words difficult to form. He felt nervous speaking to this strange elf, but he didn't want to stop talking to him either.

Arrowstorm cocked an eyebrow quizzically.

"It was the games," Balen paused and tried to explain the unexplainable. "They are a very exciting event here." He sighed deeply. "And I suppose I became _overly_ excited."

Arrowstorm continued to gaze at Balen, his eyes steady.

**I don't believe you.** The words were like a jolt inside Balen's head. Though he clearly heard Arrowstorm's words, Balen's head ached and he winced, stepping back involuntarily.

"Is that sending?" Though he continued to wince, the pain was subsiding. "I cannot send," Balen said.

"Yes, you can," Arrowstorm said.

"I assure you I cannot," Balen exclaimed, feeling offended, though, as he continued to look at Arrowstorm, the need to be polite and courteous seemed unnecessary. Balen sensed in Arrowstorm no filter or air of condescension about him, which he felt with everyone else in The Mountain, even his own mother.

"I want you to tell me why you sent the signal." He paused and smiled, his disarming smile, once more. "Now that we're _friends_ and all."

"Oh, do not mind Vadva. She always means well, though she can be a little… aggressive." Balen looked away, wishing he wasn't himself. Wishing he was someone who didn't fumble over every word and never say the right thing.

"I'll teach you how to send, if you like," Arrowstorm said, and Balen realized his heart was racing and a thin layer of sweat had collected at his brow. Arrowstorm confused and amazed Balen, and he felt completely defenseless standing before him now.

"Okay," Balen said, nodding. Balen knew he couldn't send, but it was the only response he could muster.

"Okay, Balen," Arrowstorm said. Balen liked the way Arrowstorm said his name. It sounded different than it was ever said before.

"Okay, Arrowstorm," Balen said, finding it difficult to get through the syllables. He smiled in spite of his apprehension.

Arrowstorm gazed at Balen with his steady, unflinching eyes.

In the moments of silence that followed, Balen realized that the room had become quieter than before. He turned to the left to see Lord Umber taking his seat at the council member's table.

"I have to go… sit there," Balen said, pointing over to the council member's table. Arrowstorm did not respond but looked at Balen with his piercing eyes. "I enjoyed speaking with you," Balen said, nodding courteously.

"I'll find you later," Arrowstorm said.

Balen continued to look at Arrowstorm as he made his way to his seat. He felt confused by Arrowstorm, but as much as Arrowstorm baffled him, Balen found Arrowstorm overwhelmingly stimulating. He thought about the short conversation they had and what Arrowstorm meant with his peculiar remarks.

He sat down and suddenly felt his mother's familiar hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, and she brushed her hand through his hair.

"Who was that you were talking to?" His mother said calmly, though he knew by the look on her face and her tense movements that she was upset.

"Vadva introduced me to a Wolfrider. His name is Arrowstorm." Balen didn't want to tell her anymore.

"Hmm," she murmured, continuing to stroke Balen's back and neck slowly. "Well, have a good meal, my sweet one." She brushed his hair one last time and walked back to her seat. He watched her for a moment, before he felt compelled to look back at Arrowstorm. Balen saw him talking to the elf who stood next to Arrowstorm when they first met. Balen thought they looked related, perhaps, but Balen thought maybe it was the similar headbands they wore that had Balen convinced.


	6. Chapter 5: Fresh Air

As the feast progressed, Balen felt detached from the bundle of life that surrounded him. The Wolfriders drank copious amounts wine, and Balen enjoyed watching them walk about between the tables of feasting elves. They took particular interest in the game fighter's table. Balen deduced that they were unfamiliar with Hussar's magic gift and found it fascinating as a result. Though Balen himself could not help but scoff as Hussar did his all-too-familiar tricks of fire for the on looking, eager Wolfriders.

Arrowstorm, however, watched all these events from afar, rarely leaving a spot close to their designated table. He stood with a group of elves who also took little interest in Hussar, the wine, or the crowd. Though they watched the festivities with a seeming caution, Balen saw smiles on their faces as they spoke amongst each other. Balen found himself occasionally watching Arrowstorm, and he held a deep-seated hope that Arrowstorm would look back at him. But, the new elf never took his attention away from his tribe mates.

Lord Umber spoke to Balen frequently throughout the meal, which was unusual and jarring. Used to feeling ignored and serving as little more than an ornament for a chair, Balen could sense that Lord Umber had a renewed interest in him. Lord Umber asked him innocuous questions about his mother, about being a member of the council, and about Balen finding a suitable girl for lifemating. Balen had many thoughts about these topics, but he shared none of them with Lord Umber other than polite, benign ones.

In between Lord Umber's conversations and watching the Wolfriders, Balen and the other council members were approached frequently. Elves expressed a multitude of sentiments including gratitude for another year's games, issues about food stores, or concerns about areas in The Mountain in need of repair. Lord Umber and the council members greeted each of them and listened with a level of patience Balen found incredible. Balen felt a rising sense of disheartenment, as he could not shake the awful feeling that this would be his life when he took an official seat on the council.

In time, the crowd began to filter out to the grand room and to their quarters throughout The Mountain. The crowd became thinner and tables were left empty, piled high with food scraps and half-empty goblets. The flute players, singers, and drummers had abandoned their instruments to find repose elsewhere. Balen watched his mother give tender farewells to her parents and old friends. He was pleased to see her dismiss her servants for the evening, though Ella had long since left the room on the arm one of the Wolfriders. Lord Umber excused himself from his company and retired as Balen's mother approached. Lord Umber gave her a cool embrace and wished her a good night of rest before departing.

Neither spoke as Balen and his mother ascended the stairs to their quarters. Balen's thoughts drifted to Arrowstorm. He pictured the elf before him once more and recalled the strange sensation of his sending. Balen wondered if perhaps he could send, if he tried. Soon, they were once again back in the familiar surroundings of their suite of rooms. His mother sighed tiredly and sat on the couch, laying her head on a cushion and sleepily resting her eyes.

"What an exhausting day," she said, her eyes still closed. After a few moments, she sat up and proceeded to the wash room. He heard her removing the elaborate chains from her hair, as each crystal made a plink into a small bowl. When she emerged, she was wearing a sleeping gown of sheer silk crepe, her dark hair rolling down her back in luscious curls. She sat at the corner table, after removing a comb from the drawer, and proceeded to brush through her long hair.

Balen was startled by the sound of a soft rap on the door.

"Come in, Sal," Balen said, knowing it was only him who would be visiting at this time.

Sal opened the door silently and closed it gently behind him. Balen's mother greeted him with a slight smile and a glance before returning her attention back to the combing of her now smooth locks.

"My lady. Lord Balen," he said formally, though Balen could hear a slight slur upon his voice from the wine. "I wanted to see if either of you were in need of assistance."

Balen chuckled and shook his head, sitting down next to his mother. For as long as Balen could remember, Sal always entered the room with some purpose or helpful cause. His mother looked at Balen sleepily and smiled.

"I know Lord Umber means to have you sit in Aurek's seat at the council member's table." She put down her comb, placed her elbow on the table, and rested her head sleepily on her hand. "It is such an honor." She reached out with her other hand to caress Balen's cheek.

Balen turned to Sal, not wanting to talk about Lord Umber or the council. "What do you think of the Wolfriders?"

Sal stretched out upon the couch, gazing over at the pair. He kicked off his boots and rubbed his eyes. "They certainly can handle their wine. Hussar was almost laid out on the floor, while they might as well have been drinking water. Very impressive, indeed," Sal said smiling.

He sat up a little straighter on the couch. "You know, it's funny…" he trailed off, trying to find the words to express his thoughts.

"What's funny?" Balen said.

"They seem to know so much. So much about _everything_. The chief Cutter, they called him, talked about how they came here in a palace and how he sought to unite all the children of the High Ones. Cutter Kinseeker. They call him that, too. That's why there are so many different-looking elves in the tribe. He brought them all together, I suppose." Sal leaned back on the couch. "For a wild-looking bunch, they just seem very wise."

Balen nodded as he pondered Sal's words. He wished he could have been listening to Cutter with Sal, but instead, he had to listen to elves talk about how the supply of twillroot was contaminated by a fungus.

"I think you are very trusting of them, Sal," his mother said. "Who is to say they know anything or speak the truth?"

"But why would they lie to us, Mother? What would be their motivation?" Balen demanded. He disliked his mother's tone and how much it reminded him of Galazar's warning.

"Well until we know more, I believe it is better to tread with caution, that is all," she said.

"Perhaps they should not trust _us_," Balen said bitterly. He stood up and paced toward the washroom. He began to unclasp the closures of his coat.

"How could you say such a thing?" his mother said coldly, and Balen turned abruptly to face her. "Balen…" her face twisted in brewing anger, but she quickly calmed herself. Balen knew she wanted to say more but was holding back her thoughts.

"What? 'Balen' what?" Balen spat. His hands began to tremble, and he did not know if it was from anger at his mother or fear of her.

She gazed at him calmly with her pale blue eyes. "Your father wanted, above all else, to preserve the way of The Mountain. What he made for us, our home, protects us from all the elements that strive to destroy our way of life. And that includes _outsiders_. Until I am convinced that they are no threat to us, I will be waiting eagerly for the moment they leave."

Balen stood before her, speechless. He felt defeated by her words, but his desire to learn more from the Wolfriders was unbreakable.

She picked up the comb and walked toward him. As she approached, he darted away from her.

"Balen!" She glared at him with annoyance. He continued to move away from her until he almost had his back to the door leading outside.

"No, Mother, enough. I do not want you to touch me," he said boldly. She continued to look at him, clearly wounded by his words. She returned the comb and closed the drawer loudly. She sat down heavily, her eyes never leaving Balen. Sal was now sitting at the edge of the couch, ready to interject at any moment.

"I understand that the last few days have been trying for you. Many things are changing. You are growing up, and I understand that as well. But sometimes, Balen, I feel like you do not understand the gift your father left for you. All he wanted was for you to be happy and not have a care in the world." Her voice became weak as she spoke, and Balen wished she would not cry.

"Mother, that does not make any sense!" Balen said, his hands were tight fists as his side. He walked closer to her, and he could see in the corner of his eye Sal stand up. "This is not a life. I _want_ to have a care in the world. What if I want to pick out my own clothes, or have my own room, or do something without a cursed servant following me every step of the way?" His voice felt tight in his throat. As the emotions gushed from him like from a gaping wound, Balen held back burning tears that threatened to fall.

"Sometimes, Balen, I wonder what I did wrong. How I raised someone who could be so ungrateful." Her words shook violently, and she let out a sob that caused Sal to rush to her. He fell to his knees at her side, cooing soothing words into her ear.

"Ungrateful," Balen murmured. Sal looked at Balen and shook his head as if to say "stop." Balen ripped the now-cumbersome coat from his back and threw it to the floor. He turned and opened the door leading out of the room.

"Where are you going?" His mother's voice was shrill.

"I will come back soon. Can I not be alone for a moment?" he said and immediately wished he hadn't. He walked through the door and let it fall closed behind him.

The air was chilled in the hallway, which Balen found pleasing against his skin. As he walked down the hallway, he untucked the thin gauzy tunic from his leather pants to allow the air to flow freely around him. He replayed his mother's words in his mind until they had morphed into nothing more than a hot, white anger which Balen relished in. He scoffed at her audacity to call him ungrateful. All Balen could do to feel reassurance was to remind himself that she would never understand him and never has. She still loved the child he once was and treated him as such.

Balen also felt the familiar anger at his father. For his abandonment. For leaving his witless mother to raise him. Balen knew that Aurek would understand him and never treat him this way and felt all the more angry that he chose to leave them both.

He passed several rooms before Balen remembered that Tundle should be moving into the Victor's Suite and perhaps already had. The thought uplifted him, and he continued through the winding hallway. Finally, he stood before the Victor's Suite. The door was closed, and Balen leaned in and strained to hear if anyone was inside. Balen heard nothing but silence. He even tried to feel the stone surrounding the room for vibrations of footsteps, but it only confirmed that the room was empty. Looking at the door, Balen decided he should return to his room and try to sleep.

Turning, he saw a figure standing before him that made his heart jump. He backed up to the door of the Victor's Suite and let out a gasp of fright. He realized the figure was Arrowstorm's.

Balen sighed heavily, his heart continuing to beat widely.

"By the High Ones, you frightened me," he said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," Arrowstorm said, his bright, hazel eyes gleaming in the dimly lit hallway.

"What are you doing here?" Balen said, a feeling of fright creeping back into him.

"I told you I would find you later, remember?" Arrowstorm said. He stood still before Balen. As Balen felt like a dry leaf trembling in a breeze, Arrowstorm was always steady and unmoving.

"Yes, I do remember that. But I did not actually think you would come and find me," Balen replied, nervously clasping his hands together and then letting them go.

Arrowstorm smiled with a look of bewilderment. "I said it. Why wouldn't I mean it?"

"I thought you meant something more like when someone says 'I will see you tomorrow' when maybe you will not see them tomorrow." Balen looked at Arrowstorm and felt sheepish.

A breathy laugh escaped Arrowstorm's lips. He walked close to Balen and put his ear against the door to the Victor's Suite. He stepped back.

"No one's in there," he said.

"I know," Balen said, glancing back at the door.

"Are you looking for someone?" Arrowstorm asked, glancing around the hallway.

"No. Well, yes. Sort of," Balen said, walking away from the door. Arrowstorm resumed his stone stance, peering at Balen.

"No. Yes. Sort of," Arrowstorm shook his head as if to clear the words out of mind. "It's treading through mud trying to understand you." He crossed his arms but kept his steady gaze upon Balen.

Balen looked down, embarrassed. He wanted desperately to talk to Arrowstorm, to be near him, but he felt incapable of communicating properly with the Wolfrider.

"This is the Victor's Suite. The winner of the games sleeps here. I was checking to see if Tundle was occupying the rooms now. Tundle won the games yesterday." Balen looked back up at Arrowstorm. "Do you understand me?"

Arrowstorm nodded. "Yes, perfectly. I even met this Tundle. Like Rayek, that one."

A smile spread across Balen's face. "Now _I_ do not understand."

Arrowstorm smiled back at him, "I'll tell you about Rayek another time. I'm in too high spirits to talk about him now. So, where is Tundle?"

Balen shrugged. "Truthfully, I was out here to get some fresh air."

"Fresh air?" Arrowstorm's knitted his brow. "Here?" He looked around again and back at Balen. "This is not fresh air. It's stuffy and has too many elves breathing it." His lips curved into a slight frown as he looked around with a hint of repugnance in his expression. "There's a look-out up the steps over there," Arrowstorm said, pointing his thumb behind him. "I found it when I was looking for you. Let's get some proper fresh air there."

Arrowstorm turned and started toward the stairs. Balen knew of the massive balcony Arrowstorm spoke of, but he couldn't remember the last time he was there. Balen quickly followed Arrowstorm and felt amazed at how easily the Wolfrider knew his way through the winding hallways that made up the upper tier of The Mountain.

"How do you know your way around?" Balen said, trying to say his thoughts clearly so as not to cause any confusion.

"My father taught me how to track and pay attention to what direction I'm going. That way, I can't get lost. It's no difference here. Besides, I've been exploring as much as I can since we arrived. It's not very often that you get to meet a new tribe of elves."

"I know. I never imagined I would ever meet other elves," Balen said.

Arrowstorm looked at Balen curiously as they ascended a narrow staircase that curved until it was one with the wall of The Mountain itself. The balcony was accessible through a door closed by a large, heavy bar. Arrowstorm lifted the bar easily and pulled open the door.

A swift rush of wind pushed through the open doorway as the two walked out onto the open balcony. The Mountain contained similar large open spaces at every level. Balen knew that many enjoyed the balconies, and he recalled attending a lifemating ceremony performed on this particular one. The floor was a large, oblong half-oval that jutted out over the rocky wall of The Mountain's face. Several paces back from the edge, a waist-high bar railing stretched across the open gap, preventing elves from getting too close to the edge. As long as Balen could remember, he only went to the outdoor space when he was summoned by the council or asked to accompany others. As the chilly wind whipped around him, he looked out over the darkness and was sure that this was quite enough fresh air for one evening.

Arrowstorm walked to the bar and swiftly ducked under it. He continued to the edge as the wind swept wildly through his hair. He turned back to Balen. The light of the moon illuminated his pale skin and the whites of his eyes seemed as if they were glowing. Balen thought perhaps he found him beautiful, but as these feelings mingled with fear, he convinced himself that he simply found Arrowstorm interesting.

"Come on, Balen," he turned back to the open sky and murmured something about the moonlight that Balen couldn't quite hear. Balen felt his heart quicken as he watched Arrowstorm bend and sit down at the balcony's edge, his feet dangling into the dark oblivion.

Balen took a deep breath in and let it steadily out. He approached the edge, forcing the stone railing to break and reform as he passed through it. He sat down slowly next the Arrowstorm, a hands length between them. One at a time, his he let his legs drape over the edge and dangle in the black sky. He took another deep breath.

"Are you afraid of being high up?" Arrowstorm said, his eyes looking into Balen's.

"No, I don't think so," Balen said as he peered over his knees into the dark surroundings.

"You can see the whole world from up here," Arrowstorm said. "I wonder if the Holt's somewhere over there." He raised his hand and pointed out into the blackness. The moon gave enough light so Balen could see dark shadows of mountains and treetops, but he could not make out any details. Balen followed the direction Arrowstorm pointed and squinted.

"I cannot see much of anything. It is too dark outside." Balen gave up and looked up at the array of countless, bright stars that dotted the blue-black sky. He knew those were beautiful, and the thought made him look back at Arrowstorm.

"Vadva said you were the youngest in your tribe," Balen said.

"Yes, and I hate it," Arrowstorm replied. He leaned back on the palms of his hands and continued to gaze around the open sky. "No matter how much older I get, they can't stop treating me like I'm still a cub."

Balen ruminated for a moment over Arrowstorm's words. Finally, a spark of remembrance gave Balen a start.

"Like a bear cub!" Balen exclaimed.

Arrowstorm turned his head back to Balen, a wide grin on his face and a laugh rolling out of his throat. "Or a wolf cub."

"Oh, right." Balen said, smiling back at Arrowstorm in spite of his embarrassment. "But I feel exactly the same as you. Everyone treats me I'm a child." Balen felt a dark wave of sorrow envelope him. "It's like my life has already been laid out before me, and all I have to do just walk the line. And I'm supposed to be happy for that." Balen shook his head, wondering if he had overstepped Arrowstorm's patience for him. Instead, Arrowstorm continued to gaze at him, his sharp eyes ever-steady.

Countless thoughts raced through Balen's mind, and he found it difficult to choose one to bring to the forefront. There were so many things he could say to Arrowstorm, feelings he never expressed to another soul, but he didn't know if Arrowstorm truly wanted to hear them anymore than his mother did. Before Balen could sort it out, he found himself speaking once more.

"My father was wise and ancient and everyone loved him. So when they look at me, I know they want me to be that for them. To make them feel like he never really left. And how can I do that? How I can be someone I've never met? He made this mountain. He left me with a title and a room at the top of The Mountain. Am I ungrateful if I don't want any of it?" Tears began to form in Balen's eyes, and he abruptly halted them before they could fall.

"Why did he leave?" Arrowstorm asked. His voice was low and lacked the mirth that colored it before.

"Mother and Lord Umber and everyone else has a reason, but after a while you realize no one has a blasted clue."

"Every elf should be free to make his own path. You don't have to accept the life others choose for you, Balen."

"How do I not accept it?" Balen sneered. He looked away as a hot, rising anger filled him. He felt shame for speaking in such a brattish tone.

"You're like a tuftcat in a snare," Arrowstorm said calmly with no hint of irritation at Balen's demeanor.

"A what?" Balen said, baffled once again by Arrowstorm's strange idioms.

"A tuftcat has sharp teeth and claws and can easily free itself from a trap. The only thing that stops the tuftcat is a powerful fear. Without the fear, a tuftcat can't be snared. That's you, Balen. How can anyone keep you in a big stone rock? Nobody can but you and your fear."

Balen stared back at Arrowstorm. Their eyes were locked on one another, but Balen could feel his heart pounding as he thought about what Arrowstorm had said. As Arrowstorm's serious expression remained unchanging, Balen realized that Arrowstorm was the kind of beautiful that could shatter the earth or make the sky fall. His words made Balen feel as though he was transforming right there on the edge of The Mountain, though Balen did not know who he was transforming into. All he was sure of was that he was different than he was before – before he met this strange, exquisite elf sitting next to him.

"Tell me about the signal." Arrowstorm said. His words were resolved, and Balen found no room to protest.

"I did not mean to do it," Balen said. "It was the worst thing I have ever done, and when you Wolfriders arrived because of it, it reminded everyone all over again that I did it. I lost control of my magic, and I could have hurt everyone."

"How did you lose control of your magic?" Arrowstorm asked.

Balen sighed, trying to recall the events that led to the colossal mistake. He carefully thought as he spoke. "I was watching the games. To me, the games are dreadfully boring, because the same elf wins every year."

Arrowstorm nodded silently.

"Tundle came out and made Galazar keel right over in a heartbeat. It was shocking and exciting. I suppose I was getting too excited, because Lord Umber was ordering me to leave. They were pulling on me and saying I needed to relax." Balen spoke faster he imagined the events all over again.

Arrowstorm turned his body so he faced Balen head-on. One leg continued to dangle over the edge, but his leg closest to Balen was folded between them. Balen felt Arrowstorm's knee touching his thigh and could not keep himself from looking at the spot where their bodies connected.

"Hold on a moment. What were you doing to make them want you to leave?" Arrowstorm sounded intensely interested in Balen's story, which Balen found both enthralling and intimidating.

"I was laughing." Balen recalled the earlier events vividly.

"Laughing?" Arrowstorm blinked at Balen with bewilderment. "I don't understand."

"I could not stop. It was up to that point one of the most bizarre, unbelievable things I had ever seen. I suppose they thought I had gone mad or could not handle the games, so Lord Umber ordered me out. I believe he thought it was distracting."

"What happened next?"

"Well," Balen said, saying the words slowly once again as he tried to remember exactly what occurred. "I remember Sal leading me away. Sal is my mother's friend. I suppose he's my friend, too. I was very angry that he was the one escorting me out. I felt like of all the people, even Sal, was helping them pull me away. And I really do not want to say it, but it is the truth: I thought about how much I wanted to hurt them all. I was so very angry, Arrowstorm." Balen paused as he thought about Sal's terrified face stumbling backwards. Arrowstorm did not speak and let the silence linger.

"The ground cracked. I remember seeing that. I cannot tell you how deep or how high, but as soon as realized what I was doing, I stopped. And it went back as it was before as quickly as it began." Balen could feel the chill in the air more intensely, and he crossed his arms tightly around him. A long moment passed before either of them spoke.

"I cannot imagine how you felt it from so far away," Balen said finally.

"I didn't feel anything. I know that Suntop felt it with his 'magic-feeling.' He summoned Rayek and the Palace."

"The Palace," Balen repeated. "Sal said that your leader Cutter talked about The Palace."

"They found it many turns of the seasons before I was born. It's a long story of how they found it, but I can bring you to it if you like. Every elf should see The Palace."

"You would bring me to The Palace?" Balen said, not truly believing the Wolfrider's words.

"Of course." Another silent moment passed as they looked at one another.

"So what happened with Rayek and the Palace?" Balen asked, returning the focus of conversation.

"You see, inside the Palace is the Scroll of Colors. And it records all the memories of all the elves. Rayek knows how to turn the Scroll of Colors and read it. They somehow used it to find where your magic came from. That bit is beyond my understanding." Arrowstorm shrugged.

Balen nodded reluctantly, trying to create an image the Scroll of Colors and the Palace in his mind.

"They let Cutter know and before we knew it, we were flying away to this mountain. I begged Cutter to let me go, and, of course, he said it was up to my parents. I was filled with joy when they agreed to let me go. Anyway," Arrowstorm continued, "I remember when Rayek and Cutter were talking about the signal." Arrowstorm's eyes flashed with excitement, and Balen couldn't take his eyes from Arrowstorm's. "Rayek said it was just like when Blue Mountain fell and all the souls of The Gliders were inside of him. He said it was _that_ powerful." Balen's eyes widened at the idea and Arrowstorm's mention of The Gliders. He immediately recalled Galazar's warning about the Wolfriders and Blue Mountain. Could Galazar be right?

Arrowstorm shifted back to face the open sky and allowed his other leg to dangle over the edge. Balen's thigh tingled where Arrowstorm's knee once touched it.

"When Suntop determined it was only you, Rayek had the most dumbfounded look on his face. It was amazing." Arrowstorm smiled as he thought about it, and his voice returned to its warm, jovial tone.

Arrowstorm looked abruptly over at Balen and pointed his forefinger at him. "I was supposed to teach you how to send."

Balen groaned quietly and looked away. "I cannot send."

"I know you can, Balen. I'm sure of it. Give it a try," Arrowstorm protested.

"Sending is for those who have things to hide. In The Mountain, you do not send without bringing suspicion from the council upon you," Balen said tiredly, as he had heard the sentiment countless times.

Arrowstorm's eyes narrowed, an incredulous expression on his face. "Sending is the only way to know someone truly. You can say false words, Balen, but never false sendings. Sending lets you share yourself, completely. You can see how things look or smell or feel through someone else. It connects us, Balen."

Balen absorbed Arrowstorm's impassioned words. So many truths that Balen thought were as solid as The Mountain itself continued to shatter.

"I shall try," Balen said, resolving to give it more effort than he's ever given anything.

Arrowstorm shifted once more to face Balen and leaned forward and grabbed either side of Balen's thighs and rotated them to face him. Balen watched wide-eyed as Arrowstorm crossed his legs together. Balen mimicked his position, crossing one calf over the other and tucking them close to his body.

"Ready?" Arrowstorm said, his eyes intense and serious. Balen could only nod. He had watched Arrowstorm's mouth when he spoke, and Balen thought he saw the glint of sharp, pointed teeth.

"I'm going to send you my name. And I want you to send me your name back."

**Arrowstorm.** Balen heard Arrowstorm clearly speak his name but his lips didn't move. Balen tried not to wince, but the sending seemed loud and caused him to feel a pulse of pain inside his head.

"It hurts. I do not think I can do it."

"It'll only hurt the first few times. You'll get used to it soon enough. Now send me your name." Arrowstorm stared intently at Balen. He sat perfectly still.

Balen thought about his name and tried to send, but he found he had no idea how. He looked back at Arrowstorm helplessly.

"Think about your name. Repeat it in your head. Then imagine pushing it out of your head and it coming straight into mine. Shoot it straight like an arrow right here," Arrowstorm said, moving his finger to point at the middle of his forehead. "I want you to lock-send it to me. I have a feeling you don't want the whole mountain knowing I'm teaching you to send."

Balen nodded and repeated his name silently in his head. He closed his eyes and continued to chant it in his mind. _Balen. Balen. Balen._

Slowly, he opened his eyes and pushed the word out of his mind with all of his might just as Arrowstorm had instructed. He was about to feel foolish, but suddenly, he felt the word enter Arrowstorm's mind.

"Good! It was fuzzy, but you'll get better. That felt good, eh?" Arrowstorm smiled and scooted close to Balen so their knees were touching. Balen felt it was warmer sitting this close to Arrowstorm and could not stop looking at his bright, pale brown eyes or his wild locks of hair. Balen thought that perhaps it would be nice to touch Arrowstorm's hair, but he pushed it out of his mind.

**Balen.** The sending came easier this time.

"Yes! See? I knew it! I knew you could send!" Arrowstorm reached out, grabbed Balen above the elbows, and shook him excitedly. Balen could feel Arrowstorm's rough, hard hands through the thin fabric of his tunic. Arrowstorm withdrew his grasp and continued to smile at Balen.

**Now you can be as silent as a wolf.** Arrowstorm smiled slyly. Balen heard the words in his mind, but he also felt Arrowstorm's excited desire for the two of them to explore The Mountain further. Balen found the intense, loud words and emotions coming from Arrowstorm almost unbearable.

"Your sendings are too much," Balen said, trying to look at Arrowstorm through squinted eyes, the pain still pulsating his head.

"We'll keep practicing." Arrowstorm never took his eyes from Balen.

Balen heard the faint call of a giant hawk in a nest far below. Arrowstorm looked off into the blackness toward the sound. Balen suddenly felt a jolt of fear that clenched at his insides and forced him to stand up.

"What is it?" Arrowstorm said, moving swiftly to his feet.

"I told Mother I would return soon. How long have we been up here?" Balen frantically walked back to the door leading into The Mountain. Arrowstorm followed after him, ducking under the railing and joining Balen at his side.

"I don't want her to send the Chosen looking for me," Balen said. His desire to stay with Arrowstorm was strong, but not as strong as his fear of any further, unnecessary negative attention from the council.

"Send to me tomorrow, and I'll come find you," Arrowstorm commanded, once again making Balen feel as if he had little choice in the matter.

"All right," Balen agreed, though he felt bewildered at the idea.

"Until then, Tuftcat." Arrowstorm's lips curved into a slight smile, but his eyes penetrated Balen and left him spellbound.

Balen turned and pushed open the door. He glanced back at Arrowstorm who did not follow him. Balen raced down the steps. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he began to walk briskly toward the room he shared with his mother. However, he felt compelled to look back up to the balcony. He stopped and looked to see the door still ajar where he left it. Balen assumed Arrowstorm must have wanted to stay up there.

Balen began once again toward his room, but he walked slowly. He thought about the things Arrowstorm had said to him, but his thoughts were focused mainly on Arrowstorm's enchanting eyes and untamed hair.

His thoughts drifted to Arrowstorm's strong hands on Balen's arms, and Balen smiled to himself.

"Hello, Lord Balen." Balen looked up sharply to see Sal leaning against a corner in the hallway.

Balen sighed at the sight of Sal and felt annoyed at his presence.

"Sal," Balen said and continued walking.

"Wait a moment," Sal said, standing in front of Balen and putting his arm out to stop him.

"What is it, Sal?" Balen could no longer hide his exasperation.

"I need you to tell me where you've been. Or at least a _version_ of where you've been."

Balen exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. "Why is it any concern of yours?"

"Your mother was very upset when you left. You both said many things that I'm sure you didn't mean. I tried for some time to get her to sleep, but she kept calling out your name at every sound she heard. She asked me to find you and tell her where you went. So, what should I tell her?"

Balen felt his annoyance at Sal melting away. "Tell her I was up on the balcony."

Sal nodded, and Balen began to walk past him.

"Hey, Balen. I wanted to say something to you." Balen stopped and turned back to Sal. He felt the annoyance creeping back into him and sat down heavily on a small stone bench along the wall.

"Is this going to take long? I would actually like to get some sleep tonight." Balen looked up at Sal, who let out a snort of contempt in response to Balen's snide remarks.

"I wanted to say this: Everything you said to your mother was right. It is completely fair for you to want your own room, have your own things, and maybe find a suitable lifemate. Though how you are going to find a girl who can put up with you other than your mother is a mystery to me." Sal grinned and sat down next to Balen.

"I'm sure Lord Umber would let you take over Aurek's old room. Nobody's touched that place since he left." Balen's brow furrowed at Sal's idea, finding it disconcerting.

"Whatever you choose to do, I want you to do me a favor and move out gradually. You can't just take all of your things and only see her at evening meals. Spend a few nights in your room and few nights in hers. That way it won't be so shocking to her. Maybe she can handle it that way."

"If I were to obtain my own quarters, why would I prolong the inevitable? It seems cruel."

Sal shook his head. "I truly believe that she can adjust better this way. If she's going to adjust at all." Sal sighed heavily, a forlorn look on his face that Balen found disturbing.

"She has to adjust," Balen offered. "Otherwise, I cannot promise that the argument we just had is not the start of many more."

"You must never argue with your mother," Sal said firmly.

"Sal! You just said that I was right in what I said to her!" Balen exclaimed.

"Yes, but being right doesn't permit you to be spiteful."

"That is very easy for you to say," Balen sneered.

"No, it's not at all easy for me to say. Your mother wasn't always like this, as fragile as a moth's wings." Balen listened intently to Sal and could not muster an appropriate response. "Has anyone ever told you about what that wretched cur did to you mother after they recognized?" Sal did not look at Balen but looked intently at the floor before where they sat.

"No," Balen said weakly. Sal's harsh words made Balen uneasy.

"I think it's about time you knew the truth. For your sake and for hers."


	7. Chapter 6: Cocoon

"I'm sure you know, Balen, that your mother was born because three hunters died. It makes sense that our mountain can only hold so many, so the council decides who may have children and when they may have them. But when The Mountain was young, and Aurek, your father, first shaped it, there were only a few of us. It's so hard to believe that not only was this Mountain filled with children throughout the whole year, but we still recognized then. Of course, that was long before even my time.

"I remember that early morning when they died. I had only been in Taer's hunting party for a few moons. I had witnessed accidents in training and outside The Mountain, but nothing that couldn't be taken care of by a healer. Our food rations needed replenishing after that long winter, so I had been going on two or three day treks out into the plains and woodlands to snare ravvits or hunt shagbacks.

"Taer allowed us a few days of rest back before we would trek out again. On our last day before returning to the plains, Cero took his hawk out. I don't even remember if he was hunting or scouting for herds. Either way, it was a bad idea, a _really_ bad idea, to go flying that day. The fog hung low in the air, but it's unpredictable. I know Cero was a bit of a show-off, but he took two of his best riders with him, Kestrel and Fritt. It all seems so foolish now.

"That bird became so disoriented in the fog, she clipped her wing against what I can only guess was jagged rock. That fog had to be so thick, she couldn't even tell which way was up and which was down. She flew headfirst into the side of The Mountain and those three elves flew right off her back and fell straight to the ground. And by then, I'd skinned countless dead animals trying to earn my place in a hunting party. I'd drained blood from birds and gutted shagbacks. But, Balen, _nothing_ prepared me for what those elves looked like when we found them.

"After some time, the council members announced that three children would be born to replace the fallen hunters. As you very well know, no children have been born since you, so you don't understand how exciting this news is for everyone. You may think the games are exciting? The ceremony of choosing birth mothers makes the games seem like one of Lord Umber's stodgy council meetings. I suppose it's because a lot of elves want to have children and so few actually do. I had just joined Taer's hunting party and didn't have a lifemate, so I actually didn't care much about the announcement. I also had known Cero, Kestrel, and Fritt, and their death was difficult for me to forget. Aurek shaped a stone slab with their faces etched into it. It's actually very beautiful and sits right outside the hunting lodge.

"But after the ceremony, things went back to how they always were. I kept right on skinning ravvits and filling food stores. The three children were born around the same time, of course. The council announced your mother's birth first, then Dusken, then Ella a few days after. And then the day eventually came when I met your mother."

Balen listened, engrossed by Sal's story and candidness. Balen had heard plenty of stories about The Mountain, his father, and other events of now-seeming-legend. But Sal's words came from an honest place, and Balen was eager to hear more.

"How old was she?" Balen inquired, all of the previous haughty tone gone from his voice.

"She had to have been a few years younger than you are now. But old enough to be the kind of stunning to the eyes that caused elves to trip over their own feet. Her hair was so long back then it almost trailed on the floor. But it was beautiful. She was beautiful. I thought it would be a great idea to ask her to be my lifemate."

"You asked her to be your lifemate the first day you met her?" Balen asked, shocked.

"No, no, no. It was a few days later. And of course she rejected me totally," Sal laughed at the memory, which caused Balen to laugh with him.

"She did not requite your feelings," Balen said, believing he knew that already.

"Well, she never agreed to be my lifemate as you very well know. But I wouldn't say she didn't requite my feelings _entirely_."

Balen looked dumbfounded, his silver eyes locked on Sal. "I am not sure I want to know what you mean by that, Sal."

Sal let out a boisterous laugh as he slapped his hand down roughly onto Balen's shoulder. "I'll leave out the sordid details, all right? All I'm trying to tell you is that there was short period of time where…"

Sal paused and looked down at the floor. His pale blue eyes darted across the floor as he sorted through the thoughts that flooded his mind.

"Go on, Sal. I want to know what happened," Balen said.

"She was mine. She would sneak out of her needlework lessons and appear in the hunting lodge. One day I showed her the forge, and she demanded the smithy let her make something. I think she liked the hot, red flame of the metal. They gave her a blob of iron which she pounded with the hammer. She wasn't very good, of course, but I sure enjoyed watching her do it."

Sal reached into the front of his tunic and pulled out a small piece of iron that was fused to a thin chain that hung around his neck. "This is what she made that day. It's terribly ugly, but I don't mind."

Balen peered at the bumpy, misshapen piece of metal and found it impossible to imagine his mother hammering away at it in the forge. Sal tucked it back into his tunic and sighed heavily, running his hand through his black, shoulder length hair.

"To me, Hilleen was like a cold drink of water after a long day's journey back to the lodge. Of course she was beautiful, but her words could snap you like a whip if you crossed her. I particularly remember Ella and her getting into quite a tussle when Ella took a sudden interest in me right around the time she did. I seem to recall the word 'rat-faced hag' being said by your mother."

"That cannot be true. My mother called Ella… _that_?"

"Mm-hmm," Sal said, "or something like that."

Balen leaned back against the wall heavily. "Unbelievable."

"Of course I kept asking her to be my lifemate, and she would always refuse. But for about a moon it felt like she was. And then, just like that, it was over. I was in my bed, almost asleep, when I heard my door open. I was sure it was Hilleen, which made me very happy, until I saw her face. That look on her face, Balen, it made my blood run cold. She was shaking so much, and I couldn't make her stop. And I kept asking over and over again, 'What's wrong?'"

Sal paused once more. Balen already knew what was wrong with his mother that night.

"She had recognized Aurek. _Recognized_ him. Something that hadn't happened in The Mountain for as long as anyone could remember. She looked absolutely terrified. I tried to figure out what was causing her to be so frightened, but she couldn't speak. She could only shake and cry in my arms. It's only now that I understand that recognition, until the call is answered, can be painful."

Balen thought about this and found it all very difficult to imagine in his mind.

"I didn't know then," Sal said somberly, "but that would be the last time I would see her for two years."

When Sal did not immediately begin speaking again, Balen quietly asked, "What do you mean? Where did she go?"

Sal turned to face Balen, but his eyes remained downcast. "He shaped a room into the side of The Mountain and kept her there. You had to fly to be able to reach it, and even then, there was no door. It looked like an enormous cocoon or like a gigantic hawk's egg. I remember watching him fly up to her, his arms full of dresses and food packs."

Sal's brawny shoulders sagged as he peered up, beyond where Balen sat. "If you stood on those stairs, you could see it. Her room." He pointed to the stairs that led up the balcony, which Balen had just descended. Once again, Sal's usually sunny disposition was clouded with sorrow.

"He never let her out of the room? What did the council member's think? It doesn't make any sense." Balen's sentences strung together as he tried to understand.

"At first, everyone was _excited_ about it. Aurek had shaped this new addition to The Mountain, and there was a lot of talk about it being a great throne room where the two of them would watch over us. But as time went on, he stopped attending council meetings and feasts. It would be days before anyone had last seen him. And, of course, no one ever saw Hilleen. I know the council members had to have been concerned, but nobody did anything. There was nothing to do. And, like everything else, we carried on.

"Of course, I was outraged. I would spend my nights perched on those stairs rather than sleep in my own bed. I would beg Galazar and any sender I could find to send to her. They all refused me for fear of Aurek's disapproval. Twice I caught him returning to his room, and I yelled as loud as I could, begging him to let me see her. And he just kept on flying like he couldn't even hear me. The craven master of our Mountain. He isn't even fit to lick my boot."

Sal stopped and once again put his hand heavily on Balen's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know he's your father, and it's not right for me to speak ill of him."

"It is okay, Sal. I do not feel like he is my father. He is more like a shadow that follows me," Balen said glumly. "But I still do not understand. He just kept Mother up in a cocoon for 2 years? But why?"

"I don't know, Balen. Perhaps he wanted to protect her while you grew in her belly. Since you were such a powerful rock-shaper even as a baby, some believe that he was protecting us and her from your rock-shaping magic. But I believe it was because he's an insane cursed wretch.

"Regardless, the day finally came that she was found outside Lord Umber's chambers. She was wandering around, still covered in blood and mess from giving birth to you. Aurek had vanished, and there was no trace of the room he had shaped. After Crestamin had seen to her, they allowed me to stay by her side. She had been through so much birthing you, she was fast asleep, and you were sleeping right there in her arms. When she woke up, she just talked about you. I tried to tell her how much I missed her and that I loved her. But it didn't seem to matter to her anymore.

"I don't know what it was like for her during that time. She won't talk about it, really. I've tried countless times to try to help her get out from under his grip, but it's like he sucked her spirit out. I believe that you were the only thing that gave her solace in that cell. And even now, her whole existence is wrapped up entirely with you. So when she says that she'll die if you aren't with her, I believe her, Balen."

Balen felt his heart fall as he remembered his mother speaking similar words to him not long ago.

"I would give anything to bring back the Hilleen who used to sneak out of her needlework lessons to pick flowers around the mountain base. Who would reject every offer to be my lifemate but then tell me that I was hers and I could have no other. The Hilleen who made me this ugly piece of scrap metal." Sal brushed his fingers against the leather of his tunic, which the token hid behind. "I want you to remember what I told you the next time your mother makes you angry. And think about what I said before, about not moving out of your room so quickly."

Balen nodded. A familiar shame enveloped him, and he was now eager to apologize to his mother for ever being self-centered or angry.

"I think it's time for both of us to get some sleep." Sal stood up as he spoke. He arched his back and yawned loudly. Balen continued to sit on the small stone bench, still mulling over Sal's story. "Are you going to be all right, Balen?"

Balen looked up at Sal and nodded once more.

"Don't bother your mother with the past. She doesn't need to know that we talked about this. Now go to sleep, _Lord_ Balen." Sal gave Balen a slight smile before he turned and began to walk away.

"Sal?" Balen said, which caused Sal to halt and turn quickly around. "Have you ever seen a tuftcat before?" Balen asked.

Sal's brow furrowed as he thought about Balen's question. "Tuftcat? No, I've never heard of that. Why?"

"Nevermind. Just something I heard a Wolfrider say."

"Ah. They do say a lot of strange things, that's for sure." Sal gave Balen one last warm smile and walked down the hallway until he was out of sight.

Balen could hear the flickering of the fire burning on the torches that dimly lit the hallway. He could feel the Mountain all asleep except for a humming vibration Balen felt from the stone below. The Wolfriders were still wide awake. He stood and looked up to the balcony door. The door was shut tight. His eyes wandered around the black shadows around the stairs, as if he could possibly see the stone room his father had kept his mother in. Though Balen was relieved to hear honest truth about his parents, he was now wrought with an all-consuming despair.

He walked back to his quarters and opened the door quietly. The room was dark except for the fluttering light of a candle that burned in the washroom. He pushed aside the curtain that partitioned the sitting room and his bedroom. To his surprise, his mother sat perched on the edge of the stone platform where they slept. The candle beside the bed was only a nub of wax, and Balen retrieved a new one and placed it into the wax-covered holder. He lit the fresh candle, which cast a faint glow on his mother's still figure. He sat down closely beside her.

His mother placed her head on his shoulder. He heard her familiar sniffles, and though he couldn't see it, he was sure that tears were falling from her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. Though he usually was quickly able to cease his mother's tears, he felt overburdened by her sadness. It no longer felt easy to comfort such a broken, little bird.

"I am so sorry, Mother," he whispered. She didn't respond but only sunk deeper into his embrace.

After a time, he let go of her. He removed his clothes and lifted the heaped fur covers on the bed to allow his mother to slide under them. He joined her under the fur.

"I love you, my sweet one," his mother said softly. Balen felt her arms wrap across his chest. A mound of conflicting emotions continued to press on his mind – the despair, the longing, and the anger an infected, oozing sore atop it all.

"I know," Balen whispered back. It was a long time before sleep took him.


	8. Chapter 7: Touch Me-Touch You

The Mountain was already abuzz with activity by the time Balen had risen from his bed and eaten a small meal of brine-soaked fish. The long rest had alleviated some the weariness that plagued him during the night, but the young elf felt disconnected from the activity around him. As he sat with his mother in a smaller dining room in the council members' chambers, Balen heard the voices of his people around him but did not listen to what they were saying. A continuous parade of thoughts, thoughts about Sal's story, his mother, and the ever-still intriguing Arrowstorm, marched through his mind.

It was only when Lord Umber placed a delicate hand on Balen's shoulder did he become present to his surroundings. He stood and greeted Lord Umber politely. Balen could feel his mother's gaze upon him as Lord Umber spoke.

"Yesterday at the feast, I neglected to mention to you that there were some concerns about that finicky archway on the second tier. Could you perhaps spare a moment and see to its mending?" Lord Umber was donning his thin silver crown with an array of black feathers adorning either side of a deep purple polished gem fastened to its center. It was peculiar for Lord Umber to be wearing such attire in the early morning mealtime, but Balen shrugged away the thought.

"Yes, absolutely, Lord Umber. I will see to it right away," Balen said with a nod of his head. Since he was infrequently given permission to use his powers to shape The Mountain, Balen basked in the opportunities he was given. Even shaping a few dozen candle holders made Balen feel as though he could release finally the often pent-up magic that so easily flowed from his fingertips. Though he constantly used his rock-shaping ability to feel about The Mountain, it was the shaping that Balen enjoyed most.

After giving his mother a hasty farewell, he bolted down the stairs to the second tier of The Mountain, which was far below where Balen's quarters resided. Though The Mountain had many outcropping of balconies, open spaces with decorative windows, and covered lodgings outside for livestock, the dwellers lived in rooms on three tiers. The base of the Mountain was made up of the assembly hall, hunting lodges, forges, and various other spaces dedicated to the production of needed goods and food for the elves. The first tier housed the elves who worked in the base of The Mountain. The second tier contained the quarters of many magic-user elves and elders of The Mountain who remember the days when The Mountain was young and recognition was frequent. The top tier housed the council members and their families and all of their necessary chambers and meeting spaces. Smaller quarters in the highest tier were reserved for the Chosen protectors and the servants. The yearly games and nightly feasts were held in this highest point, and for many, these events were their only chance to visit the elegant and refined surroundings that the council members took for granted.

Balen approached the large archway that led to a complex of sleeping chambers. He had shaped this archway before, many years ago, when a small crack at the vertex gave the resident elves concern. It was clear to Balen that the archway was simply too weak to support the massive weight of stone that pressed down upon it, but when he suggested that the massive archway be turned into a smaller doorway allowing for more stone to surround and support the opening, the elves objected so emphatically that Balen realized the elves cared more about preserving Aurek's original design than fixing the archway's weak structure.

He peered up at the archway once more and spotted a few indentations on the stone that indicated pieces of the archway had broken off and fallen away. As he continued to examine the opening, Balen noticed an elf watching him a few paces away. Balen gave the elf a polite smile in greeting, which caused the elf to approach him eagerly.

"Lord Balen! As always, it is wonderful to see you," the elf smiled widely, and Balen recognized the elf but did not know his name. "That archway is giving us trouble again." The elf shook his head.

"I noticed some pieces had broken off. Was anyone hurt?" Balen asked.

The elf smiled, a few, delicate creases around his blue eyes becoming apparent. "I do not believe anyone was here when they fell. We were all attending the games when it happened. I know, because I saw the broken pieces on the ground when I returned to my chambers."

Balen felt a chill run down his spine as the realization struck him that his violent eruption of magic at the games had caused the weakening of the archway, and the stone around it to crumble. "I see," he said, looking back up at the arch.

The rock-shaper walked to one end of the arch and placed his hands on the decorative stone that laced up and around the opening. A few moments had passed before the archway had regained its unblemished appearance. Balen tried to once again futilely seek out a way to balance out the extra weight that bore down upon the archway. After a time, he stepped back and admired the archway once more.

"Lovely, Lord Balen. Just lovely!" the elf enthused.

Balen turned and walked back to the elder. His long silver mane contained a single braid that was laced with an attractive blue ribbon. Balen wondered how long he had resided within The Mountain. The thought gave him pause.

"May I ask you a question, as an elder?" Balen asked tentatively.

"Of course, Balen. You may ask me anything. And please, call me Ailodil."

"It's about the Wolfriders…" Balen's voice trailed off as he gauged Ailodil's reaction at the mention of the new elf tribe.

"Ahh, yes. They are a fascinating bunch of elves, indeed. They've been spending most of their time up in the council member's chambers, but I did see them at the feast. Lord Umber has taken the utmost care to see that they enjoy their stay with us, wouldn't you agree?"

Balen deflected Ailodil's question, for he did not know how Lord Umber was treating the Wolfrider's truly, and continued with his own inquiry.

"Do you think it is possible that they had a part of Lord Voll's death? Or perhaps even the fall of Blue Mountain?"

The silver haired elder's expression dropped to a serious frown. He blinked confusedly at Balen.

"What I mean is, did my father ever talk about the Wolfriders? Did he know that they existed?" Balen paused, but Ailodil continued with his silent glare.

"Who gave you these ideas Balen?" Ailodil said firmly.

Balen thought carefully before he answered, leaving the truth somewhere far from his words. "I just wonder how it's possible that we didn't know about them, that is all. I thought perhaps my father had heard of them or maybe even encountered others of our kind during Lord Voll's time."

Ailodil's expression softened as he gazed at the young rock-shaper. "If he did, he never spoke of it to any of us. I find it remarkable that any elves have survived outside of our mountain. The danger of humans alone makes me feel so blessed to have The Mountain to protect us."

Though Balen could feel the sincerity of Ailodil's words, he felt unsatisfied with the elder's knowledge. He could only think of how Galazar found the memory of the Wolfriders deep within Aurek's mind, and Arrowstorm's strange mention of The Glider's souls. It felt as if the truth was shattered into pieces, and Balen only held a few shards.

He thanked Ailodil, who enthusiastically thanked Balen in return for his help with the broken stone archway. As Balen began the ascent back to the council members' chambers, an intense desire to see Arrowstorm again overshadowed all of his jumbled thoughts. He knew he wanted to see if Arrowstorm could help him understand the link between Blue Mountain, his father, and the Wolfriders, but he couldn't deny that he wanted to see Arrowstorm for many more reasons than that.

_Arrowstorm told me to send to him_, Balen thought. _But how?_ Balen knew he could send to Arrowstorm if he was looking directly at him, but how could he send to Arrowstorm if he didn't even know where he was within The Mountain? Furthermore, Balen wanted to make sure he didn't send out openly to anyone within The Mountain who could receive his sending. The last thing he needed was giving the council members further reason to worry about his behavior.

As he approached the opening to the council members' various meeting rooms and quarters, he decided it wouldn't do any harm to try to send to Arrowstorm. Balen leaned against the rock wall next to the opening to the council members' chambers and closed his eyes. He felt foolish, but he had not seen or felt anyone around who might spot him. The image of Arrowstorm formed in his thoughts. He pictured his wild auburn hair, and his bright, intense hazel eyes that always seemed to be burning with an intense flame. As Balen continued to think about Arrowstorm's face and the sound of his low, husky voice, a pulsating rush of warm pressure between his legs gave him a start. He opened his eyes and looked around, though he knew he was alone in the hallway. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He closed his eyes again. The image of Arrowstorm came once more to his mind, but he focused on sending out a simple greeting: "Hello, Arrowstorm." He focused on the greeting coming out of his mind and entering the mind of the imaginary Arrowstorm he pictured in his thoughts. Finally, he opened up his eyes once more. He felt foolish.

"What am I doing?" Balen said to himself under his breath. He entered the chambers and sat down at the empty table within. He rested his head on his folded arms upon the table and looked listlessly across the empty dining hall. The throbbing below his waist took longer than he wanted to subside and left him uncomfortable and further unsure of what he wanted or why he was so despondent.

A moving shadow flashed across Balen's peripheral vision, and he felt something touch the middle of his back. He jumped up in his seat, startled, sucking in a quick breath of air, and shifted his position in an attempt to see what had crept up onto him. He stared wide-eyed at Arrowstorm slinking into the chair next to him, though his entire body was facing Balen. "You must stop scaring me like this!" Balen said, breathing heavily in and out to try to alleviate the quick pounding of his heart.

The Wolfrider snickered quietly, an exquisite, wide smile on his face. He held out his hand as he laughed, as if he was prepared to fend off any attack from Balen.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he said through the laugh. His prominent sharp teeth were clearly visible to Balen, who also noticed a large bow propped against him. "I swear I didn't mean to scare you this time."

Balen continued to stare bewilderedly at Arrowstorm. "What are you doing here?" Balen said, lowering his voice and looking around to ensure that no one had since entered the dining hall and spotted them.

"You sent for me," Arrowstorm said, his expression shifting to only a sly grin.

Balen broke his gaze from Arrowstorm and looked down at his hands that rested awkwardly in his lap. "I didn't think that worked," he murmured.

"It most definitely worked," Arrowstorm said. Balen peered back at the Wolfrider to see Arrowstorm had not taken his eyes off of Balen and continued to look at him with a peculiar intensity. Balen was used to Arrowstorm's steady, acute gaze but the combination of it with a larkish grin made Balen wonder what exactly was going through the Wolfrider's mind.

"Is that a bow?" Balen asked, his eyes drifting to look at the weapon at Arrowstorm's side. A decorative leather strap crossed his chest and secured a container of feather tipped arrows that jutted out from behind him. Arrowstorm gripped the bow and held it fully upright. The perfection of the wood's smooth surface and curvature made Balen think that a plant shaper had made the bow. The bow was taller than the two seated elves, and Balen realized that the weapon must have been practically as tall as Arrowstorm. "Why do you have that?" Balen asked as he continued to exam it.

"I was thinking I could find something to hunt. Or just shoot for practice. Besides, if something unpredictable happens, I want to be ready."

"Something unpredictable?" Balen wasn't sure of Arrowstorm's sentiment, but the Wolfrider only shrugged and grinned back at him.

"Well, we could go down to the hunting lodge. I am sure there are things you could hunt down there," Balen said. A warm, excited wave of pleasure washed over Balen at the thought of their descending into The Mountain together. He found himself smiling back at Arrowstorm involuntarily.

"Yes. Let's most certainly do that," Arrowstorm said.

A momentary pang of guilt attempted to squelch Balen's courage. He knew his mother would eventually send someone looking for him if he was gone too long. But as he continued to look into Arrowstorm's fiery eyes, he decided to risk the wrath.

Balen led Arrowstorm out of the dining hall and down the empty hallway. Arrowstorm's footsteps were silent as he stayed close next to Balen. Once at the stairs leading to the lower tier, Balen took one step down and realized the elves ascending the stairs were members of Lord Umber's Chosen protectors and his servants. He quickly spun around and bolted down the hallway once more and stopped as they rounded a corner.

"I cannot go, Arrowstorm," Balen whispered and shook his head. Arrowstorm peered around the corner and the returned his gaze to meet Balen's.

**Why not?** Arrowstorm sent. Balen found Arrowstorm's sending to be strong and uncomfortable to receive, and his words were enveloped in a bundle of Arrowstorm's raw emotions: curiosity, excitement, stimulation.

"Those elves are Chosen protectors of Lord Umber. I don't think the council members would like my being alone with you, and if they see me, they are sure to tell him. I am trying to _lay low_." Balen repeated Sal's previous advice back to Arrowstorm, though it sounded unnatural coming from Balen's lips.

Arrowstorm's eyes widened for a moment with further excitement, and he nodded his understanding. **We'll have to be sneaky.** Balen could feel Arrowstorm's excitement at the sudden propensity for danger. **Is there another way down?**

Balen thought for a moment. "There is a stairway on the other side that leads down from an opening in The Mountain. But we will have to go through the walls," Balen whispered, not feeling ready to send in return to Arrowstorm.

"_Through_ the walls?" Arrowstorm whispered back.

"Yes," Balen said and turned to continue down and around the hallway to reach a seeming dead end. Balen turned to face a stone wall that he knew was a shortcut to their destination. "Okay, so just walk through the wall when I do, and you will pass right through."

Arrowstorm's eyes narrowed as he looked at Balen with a steadfast focus. "You are sure of this?" he asked, though it did not sound like a question.

"I am fairly certain, yes."

Arrowstorm tilted his head and did not respond.

"The stone will pass right over you. I am _certain_," Balen said.

"I don't want to get stuck in the wall now, Tuftcat," he continued to peer at Balen with a slight apprehension. Balen tried desperately to not break into another involuntary, fatuous grin at the sound of Arrowstorm's unwonted nickname he had given Balen. As a result, Balen pursed his lips and looked down.

**You will not get stuck.** Balen looked back at Arrowstorm as he sent to him.

Arrowstorm exhaled and turned to face the impending wall.

"Just follow me when I walk through," Balen gave the instructions once more and readied himself.

"I think you should hold my hand," Arrowstorm said, holding out his hand with his thumb facing upward. "To make sure your magic works on both of us." Balen looked suspiciously out at his outstretched palm and then back at Arrowstorm. He detected a slight twitch of a grin pulling at the corners of Arrowstorm's lips, but the Wolfrider never broke into a smile. Balen reluctantly took Arrowstorm's hand. He immediately felt the hard, calloused surfaces on Arrowstorm's palm and fingertips.

"Ready?" Balen asked. Arrowstorm nodded, and the grin that threatened to overtake his expression finally broke across his face.

They passed effortlessly through the stone wall and emerged on the other side with no detection from the smattering of elves about the hallways. Balen walked briskly to the next stone impediment, and the pair emerged on the other side. Finally, they arrived at the stairway, and Balen let go of Arrowstorm's hand as he descended the stairs.

As they silently made their way to the lowest level of The Mountain, Balen noticed that Arrowstorm looked curiously about at the stone structures, archways, and grand open spaces that made up The Mountain. He wondered what Arrowstorm thought of Balen's home compared to the mysterious place from whence the Wolfriders came. He decided that he would ask him about that, and other curiosities, when the moment was right.

Balen was unfamiliar with the layout around the hunting lodge, but he could feel their proximity to the outside and knew the lodge must therefore be near. He led them around a corner and was abruptly faced with the massive, open wooden double door of the hunting lodge. He could see the elves working busily within, carting barrels of cured meats, tending to fresh game, and sharpening weapons. Voices spoke loudly within as the sound of the hammers pounding in the forges could be heard nearby.

"Here we are," Balen said. He began to rethink his plan to bring Arrowstorm here, fearing that he would no doubt be recognized with The Wolfrider and gain much unwanted attention.

"Smells funny," Arrowstorm said, a faint look of disgust on his face. The Wolfrider strode through the doorway and into the lodge, leaving Balen no choice but to follow closely next to him.

The lodge was open to the air with large, decorative windows that made up an entire wall of the room. The bright sun provided no warmth, however, as the brisk air flowed freely throughout the lodge. Most elves were dressed appropriately for the colder temperature, but Balen most certainly was not, wearing little more than a silk tunic and leather leggings. Arrowstorm's eyes darted from one sight within the lodge to another, especially if a loud or unexpected sound caught his attention.

The Wolfrider paused before a half-filled barrel and peered inside. His lips curled into a disgusted sneer as he stared at the packed fish curing in a mixture of salt and other grainy substances. "That's one thing I miss about the Holt: fresh meat. I don't know what you're doing to this fish, but it's not fresh."

"Well," Balen cocked his head and peered down into the barrel, "this will go to our food stores. This keeps the fish from spoiling."

"It doesn't smell rotten, but I still wouldn't want to eat it," Arrowstorm said. "We've been eating cooked meat since we got here. I thought I hated that, but now I'm glad they didn't bring us _this_," Arrowstorm said, giving the barrel one more shake of his before he turned to peruse other sights within the lodge.

"You don't like our game?" Balen asked, feeling unhappy that Arrowstorm had a distaste for the cuisine offered to him thus far.

"No, it's not the game. Ravvits, ravvit. It's the charring it to a crisp that I can't get used to."

"How would you eat your ravvit, then?" Balen asked.

Arrowstorm stopped and looked at Balen. "Raw. I shoot it. I eat it." As he spoke, Arrowstorm raised his arms and mimed shooting an arrow and then stuffed an imaginary wad of meat into his mouth to emphasize his point. Balen was dumbfounded at the idea and could not muster a response.

"Hmm. Now I'm hungry for ravvit," Arrowstorm said and began to walk toward the doorway leading outside. Balen halted in the doorway as Arrowstorm continued outside into the bright sunlight. The moisture of the hard earth was palpable through the delicate leather that covered Balen's feet. As he peered outside, he realized that he could never remember a time where he walked outside the comfort of The Mountain. Without the surrounding stone, Balen was powerless and vulnerable to the unknown elements.

Arrowstorm turned and noticed that Balen was no longer at his side. He walked a few paces closer to Balen. **What's wrong?** he sent.

When Balen did not respond, Arrowstorm approached Balen until he was directly before him. His countenance became serious and concerned, which Balen had not seen since their conversation on the balcony the previous night.

"You're afraid," Arrowstorm said. Balen inhaled and exhaled heavily, though he remained silent. He wanted to tell him that he had never stepped outside of The Mountain, and even though he wanted to leave its confining walls more than anything, the task seemed overwhelmingly daunting in this moment.

Arrowstorm held out his hand to Balen. Balen looked down at it, not understanding the simple gesture. Arrowstorm moved from in front of Balen to beside him and took his hand in Balen's. He squeezed Balen's hand firmly.

"Ready?" Arrowstorm said, a faint smile returning to his face.

Balen nodded, and Arrowstorm led him out from the doorway and into the cool outdoor surroundings. As they walked, Balen focused his gaze on Arrowstorm's hand grasping his. For the short time Balen had known him, he determined that Arrowstorm was brave, fiercely focused, and seemingly wild in nature based on his appearance and movements. But as Balen peered down at the rugged hand holding his own, he realized that Arrowstorm had a benevolence that Balen didn't know could exist in someone.

It was not until Arrowstorm had stopped walking did Balen break away from his thoughts and look at his surroundings. He followed Arrowstorm's gaze to see a small group of elves honing their archery skills on a line-up of targets and makeshift dummy figures. Arrowstorm approached the elves, and Balen let go of Arrowstorm's hand as the elves turned to notice the Wolfrider. Each of the elves gazed at Arrowstorm with curiosity, though they spoke first to Balen.

"Lord Balen," one elf stepped forward. Based on the elf's attire that differed from his bow-wielding subjects, the elf was a hunter of high rank and was instructing less experienced hunters. "It's a rare occasion indeed that you grace us with your presence." He nodded politely as the other elves looked on, their eyes darting from Balen to Arrowstorm and back again. Balen greeted him politely and made a banal comment about the impressive size of the training grounds. The leader eyed Arrowstorm. "That's quite a bow you have there. I've never seen one like that before."

Arrowstorm did not respond but rather continued to gaze at the elf.

"This is Arrowstorm. He's a Wolfrider," Balen said, attempting to fill the awkward silence that threatened their polite exchange.

Arrowstorm walked up to a female elf who was poised before the target when the pair had interrupted their training. Arrowstorm lifted his bow from off his shoulder and stood next to her, and she watched Arrowstorm curiously. She looked back at their leader for consolation, but the leader of the group could only shrug.

"Your shoulders," Arrowstorm said quietly and gruffly. "You're holding them up too high." Balen wondered why Arrowstorm was so reserved around the new elves, when around Balen, Arrowstorm always seemed so outspoken and playful. Arrowstorm held his bow before him with one hand and held an imaginary arrow against the string with the other. He lifted his shoulders to demonstrate the error in her stance.

"If you keep them level like this," Arrowstorm said, lower his shoulders and pulling back on the string of his large bow, "you're aligned to use the full strength of your arms." Arrowstorm retracted the bowstring and looked expectantly at the elf in training. She furrowed her brow for a moment and then retrieved an arrow from the cluster stuck into the earth nearby. She stood a distance from the target and proceeded to draw back the arrow. Before she let the arrow fly, Balen noticed a slight shift in her shoulders as they relaxed and lowered just before the arrow released with a sound that Balen didn't expect and gave him a start. The arrow landed just to the left of the center of the target.

"Very good, Ivolee," the leader put his arm around her shoulder, as she beamed at the group. "Perhaps they should toss me out and have this Wolfrider teach you." He turned to Arrowstorm who was placing his bow back onto his shoulder, the string strapped across his chest holding the bow firmly in place. "So am I right in saying you're an archer by trade?" he asked Arrowstorm.

The question seemed to confuse Arrowstorm, as he took a moment to give a response. "I am an archer, yes." His voice was low and reserved, as if he had a distrust of the group of hunters.

"With a name like Arrowstorm, you should be, eh?" the elf laughed at his own remarks, and the hunters tittered in response.

Arrowstorm made a slight smirk and proceeded to turn away from the elves. Balen gave them a polite farewell and hurried to catch up with Arrowstorm.

"That was kind of you to help that hunter with her… bow shooting," Balen said, grasping at the proper words to call the sport.

Arrowstorm looked over at Balen and let out a breathy laugh. "Their form's no good. Their backs will be in knots if they keep that up." Arrowstorm shook his head.

They continued to walk around the circular well-beaten path of the training grounds and soon enough, the pair was heading back to the hunting lodge. Balen noticed a curious stone that was stuck deep into the earth in an alcove at the base of The Mountain. As he got closer, he saw three distinct faces shaped into the smooth stone surface. Balen walked up to it and lowered himself onto his knees to see the workmanship at eye-level. Arrowstorm knelt down next to Balen and looked at the stone.

"I know what this is," Balen said, mostly to himself than to his company. "My father shaped this to remember the three hunters that fell from the hawk." Arrowstorm reached out and ran his fingers along the raised surface of one of the visages.

"Did you know these elves?" Arrowstorm asked, continuing to feel the stone pictures with his fingers.

"No. They died before even my mother was born," Balen continued to look at the memorial stone. He felt Arrowstorm's touch his hand. He gently caressed Balen's hand with his own, eventually taking it firmly in his grasp.

"Don't be sad about your father. You have to trust that he's following his own path." Arrowstorm looked with his fierce amber eyes at Balen. Balen found his anger and sadness over his father to be undeniable and fresh since Sal divulged the truth of his mother's recognition to him. He tried to give Arrowstorm a polite smile to let him know that he was all right, but he knew the brief smile that flashed across his face was disingenuous and without any mirth.

Arrowstorm let out a heavy sigh. "I wish I could read your thoughts, Tuftcat. You've got such a tough shell; you're a nut I just can't crack open."

After a moment, Balen spoke. "So which am I, a tuftcat or a nut?" Balen smiled in spite of himself. He wanted to share every thought in his head with Arrowstorm, but he wasn't sure why Arrowstorm would truly care to hear his worries and fears.

"You're definitely both," Arrowstorm said with a laugh as he continued to steadily watch Balen. "And you're beautiful like the High Ones are beautiful." Balen found himself unable to recall a single word to speak, so he stared back agape in silence at Arrowstorm.

"How'd you get your claws in me, Tuftcat?" Arrowstorm murmured, as he gently brushed a bit of Balen's hair behind his ear. Balen remained paralyzed, despite his desire to finally reach out and touch Arrowstorm's mess of auburn hair.

"You say very strange things," Balen sheepishly said.

"Okay," Arrowstorm nodded and continued to smile at Balen. "I don't mind a little touch-me-touch-you. Come on, you're hands are freezing. Let's go back inside."

They walked without speaking back into the slightly warmer air of the hunting lodge. Balen knew that he wanted whatever was going on between them to continue, but he didn't know to what end. He couldn't deny that he was growing to be enamored with the young archer, no matter how senseless.

"Balen?" At the sound of his name, Balen turned to see Sal's concerned face before him. Arrowstorm looked at Sal as well, but did not share in Balen's terrible distress at the sight of him.

"Oh, hello, Sal," Balen said, feigning a beaming smile. The greeting did not alleviate Sal's suspicious glare at the pair. "This is Arrowstorm. He's a Wolfrider, and I'm… showing him around the hunting lodge!" Balen stammered with a nervous enthusiasm that must have appeared frantic.

"I see that," Sal said slowly as he continued to peer at the two. Balen could see Arrowstorm's motionless figure standing next to him, gazing intently back at Sal. "That's a remarkable bow, you have there, kit," Sal said to Arrowstorm.

Arrowstorm shifted on his feet. "I carved it myself," Arrowstorm said, his voice resuming its low, tentative quality. Balen found that nearly impossible to believe based on the near-perfect quality of the bow.

"Even more impressive," Sal said. "Can I see it?" Sal took a few steps toward Arrowstorm, who stood firmly in place. "I won't break it, kit."

Reluctantly, Arrowstorm removed the bow from over his shoulder and handed it to Sal. Sal held the bow horizontally and lifted it gently up and down. "Hmm. It's heavy but not as heavy as it looks." He tilted it vertically and felt the smooth surface of the wood with his palm. "You carved this?"

"Yes. My father helped me get it started. Every archer should make their own bow. That way, it becomes a part of you."

Sal nodded, handing the bow back to Arrowstorm who quickly strapped it across his chest once more. "Just don't go shooting with this thing around The Mountain, okay?"

Arrowstorm looked over at Balen with a glum stare, and Balen could only shrug his shoulders.

"We won't shoot anything, Sal," Balen said quickly and began to walk slowly backwards in an effort to retreat away from Sal. "I will see you at dinner tonight!"

"Balen?" Sal said, forcing the pair to stop.

"Yes?" Balen said, wincing slightly.

"Don't worry. I won't tell your mother you were down here… with Arrowstorm." Sal gave Balen a slight smile. "Just don't get into trouble and force me to, all right?" Balen nodded vigorously.

"I'm glad to see you've found a new friend," Sal said to Balen. He then directed his attention to Arrowstorm and said, "Remember what I said about that bow, kit."

Feeling it now appropriate to take their leave, Balen spun on his heel and walked as quickly as he could out of the lounge. Arrowstorm started to walk faster, and the grand stairs leading up the first tier emerged before them. Arrowstorm grinned as he glanced over at Balen before he burst into a run with full-force. Balen ran after him, and as they began their ascent, Balen watched as Arrowstorm effortlessly leapt up the stairs. By the time they had reached the half-way mark of the massive staircase, Balen felt his thighs burning with the effort it took to climb each step, and his chest heaved with heavy breaths. Balen came to a halt, only a short distance from the staircase's summit, and bent at the waist, clutching his sides. His lungs screamed for oxygen as he panted from the effort of the climb, and he felt his hair plastered to his neck from the sweat that was forming.

"I... cannot…" Balen said between breaths, and he finally stood up straight to see Arrowstorm descending the stairs back to him. Balen turned and sat down on a step. "I think my heart is going to burst," Balen said as Arrowstorm sat down to join him on the step.

"When you come to the Holt, I'll have to teach you how to climb and run without making a sound."

"_When_ I come to the Holt?" Balen looked at Arrowstorm in disbelief. "And when will I be going?"

"You'll come back with me when we leave in a few days," Arrowstorm said.

Balen snickered and shook his head. He looked back at Arrowstorm to see his glinting, bright eyes fixed upon him. Balen's smile faded as he realized the seriousness in Arrowstorm's expression.

"I cannot simply leave with you. That is… impossible," Balen searched for an explanation to make Arrowstorm understand why he could never leave The Mountain, but the number of reasons seemed so massive that he couldn't begin to make Arrowstorm understand.

"It's not impossible. And I think you'd love it there," Arrowstorm continued to look at Balen, his expression remaining earnest. Balen looked away momentarily and then back at Arrowstorm. He found himself growing more curious about the Holt and the idea of possibly going there. The thought remained ever-fixed in his mind, however, that he could never leave his mother alone in The Mountain.

Suddenly, Arrowstorm twitched his head slightly and looked off at nothing in particular. When he looked back at Balen, he grinned widely, which had an air of mischief about it. "Come meet my family," Arrowstorm said, his voice full of anticipation. "They're all meeting together."

Arrowstorm jumped gracefully to his feet, as Balen slowly rose. "Right now?" Balen asked.

"Yes," Arrowstorm leapt up the remainder of the steps and paused, though Balen began to walk toward the second staircase leading to the upper tiers of The Mountain.

"Let's go this way," Arrowstorm said, jerking his head towards the hallway they used to come down to the hunting lodge. "We mustn't be seen by the _Chosen protector elves_!" Arrowstorm whispered, exaggerating a feigned fear of the Chosen protectors of Lord Umber. Balen couldn't stop a smile that sprang to his lips.

They crept back down the hallway and waited until the hallway was clear of any elves before Balen used his rock-shaping ability to allow them to pass through the stone wall. At the next impediment, Arrowstorm thought they should perform a running jump through the wall. Balen was reluctant, but he was enjoying Arrowstorm's playful enthusiasm for his rock-shaping magic that he could not deny the archer his fun. As they jumped through the stone wall, Arrowstorm belted out, "Ayooah!" and hit the ground with an athletic roll. Balen let out as a gasp as he watched Arrowstorm slam into the wall across the hallway. Arrowstorm landed on his back with both legs against the wall pointing straight up to the ceiling.

Balen knelt down beside Arrowstorm who had his arm across his eyes. His shoulders shook as he howled with laughter at his own blunder. Arrowstorm moved his arm and peered up at Balen which only made him start another stream of loud cackles that left him breathless. Balen laughed with him, continuously asking him if he was all right or had hurt himself, but his questions just made Arrowstorm laugh all the more.

Eventually Arrowstorm shifted his legs off the wall and rolled to his side. "Help me get up," Arrowstorm said, his arms outstretched before him.

Balen took both his hands and attempted to pull Arrowstorm to his feet, but Arrowstorm pulled back on Balen's hands making it impossible to lift him. Finally, Arrowstorm sprung to his feet and stood directly before Balen. Balen straightened out his tunic and adjusted the waist of his leggings which had become disheveled.

"May we proceed? Or do you want to go bumping into anything else?" Balen said with a grin.

Arrowstorm smirked. "Be careful, Tuftcat. There happens to be some things I'd like to _bump_ into, but don't tease me unless you mean it," he said, waving his forefinger from side to side.

"Well, I mean it," Balen said defiantly, though he truly did not understand precisely what Arrowstorm meant.

"I know. You sent it to me earlier," Arrowstorm stifled a laugh.

"What? What did I send to you?" Balen felt utterly confused, and it was beginning to frustrate him.

"Okay," Arrowstorm said, putting his hands up before him in a gesture of surrender, "You want to keep making it tough on me. Fair enough," he said and started to walk toward the final staircase leading up the topmost tier of The Mountain. Balen walked silently by his side, trying to figure out exactly what had just occurred.

The pair stood outside the closed door to the chambers that Balen realized must have been given to the Wolfriders during their stay. Arrowstorm smiled and looked at the closed door. Suddenly, the door burst open with the force that startled Balen. A dark-skinned elf with hair the color of a hot fire stared wide-eyed at Arrowstorm and then looked excitedly at Balen. As quickly as she appeared, she darted back into the room.

Within the room, Balen heard the elf holler, "Arrowstorm's here! And he brought his new lovemate!"


	9. Chapter 8: Inferno

Though the open doorway beckoned them forward, Balen could only look incredulously at Arrowstorm.

"Don't listen to her. She's only teasing me," Arrowstorm said with a grin that did not fill Balen with confidence.

"Does lovemate mean the same thing to Wolfriders as it does to my people?" Balen asked, and he was continuing to surprise himself with the ease with which he spoke to Arrowstorm with such playful, flirtatious undertones.

"I'm going to assume so," Arrowstorm said with a smile and walked through the doorway, leaving Balen little choice but to follow him.

The spacious sitting room was brightly lit by the blazing sconces that hung from the walls and ceilings. Attractive furnishings were heaped with furs that the Wolfriders had apparently turned into make-shift beds, despite the fact that the sitting room was accessible to at a least a dozen small sleeping rooms. Balen realized that this must have been a living quarters for the Chosen protectors or perhaps servants but had been temporarily given over to the Wolfriders. Platters of picked over vegetables, roots, and meat scraps sat atop tables which no longer had chairs around them. Rather, the chairs had been moved about to allow the Wolfriders to sit in a jagged circle, facing one another. Balen also noticed multiple empty jugs of wine haphazardly strewn about the floor, with Wolfriders enjoying the contents of the full jugs.

Arrowstorm led Balen to the center of the room where Cutter was sitting with other members of the tribe. As he stood to greet the pair, Balen sensed a kindness and depth within his bright, flashing blue eyes. Much to his chagrin, Balen realized that most of the elves had stopped their idle conversations to at least glance at him or, for some, stare curiously. He couldn't help but feel as though he was a providing them a much needed respite from an otherwise uneventful gathering.

"It is an immense pleasure to see you again, Cutter. Chief. Chief Cutter," Balen stammered, his eyes raising to meet Cutter's but then falling downcast with nervousness.

Cutter looked at Balen with a smile of pity, then his eyes drifted over at Arrowstorm. Though they did not speak, Balen felt as though Cutter was communicating to Arrowstorm with his expression, since it caused Arrowstorm to run his hand nervously through his hair sheepishly.

"Just Cutter, all right? You don't have to be nervous around me, or any of us." He motioned with a sweeping movement of his hand to indicate the tribe. "I want to learn how this mountain came to be – about you and your mountain-folk that live here. When we were searching for you, and we came upon this mountain, it reminded us all of a time long ago…" Cutter drifted off as he delved into the deep recesses of his memories.

"Yeesh," said a silver haired elf that sat upon the ground. He gave an exaggerated shiver. "More like it gave us a fright thinking it grew back." The elf had a metal guard around his face that kept the wisps of his voluminous silver hair at bay. He stood and joined Cutter by his side.

"Blue Mountain," Balen said carefully. He felt his heart flutter with fear at the mention of the long lost home of The Gliders, and the perhaps dangerous connection it had to the Wolfriders.

Cutter nodded as Skywise shook his head. "But I'll for one say that I much prefer this mountain given a choice of the two. A lot less black sending and cub-snatching," the silver-haired elf said as he nudged Cutter in the rib.

"This is Skywise," Arrowstorm said, but Balen continued to look at the silver-haired with befuddlement.

"Even though," Skywise said, a wicked tight-lipped grin slinking across his face, as his gaze fell upon Arrowstorm, "perhaps our cub _did_ get himself snatched up after all." Balen glanced at Arrowstorm with hope that he would shed some light on the peculiar conversation, but Arrowstorm simply glared back behind narrow eyes at Skywise. Skywise gave a pleased grin to Cutter who looked back at him punitively.

Balen swallowed nervously. He spoke slowly and carefully, unsure if he truly wanted to hear the answer: "You were inside Blue Mountain?"

"Yes, _many_ turns of the seasons ago. Though your home here does resemble it in some ways, it's nothing like Blue Mountain was," Cutter said matter-of-factly.

"Did you meet my father?" Balen asked quickly, though his anger at his father's memory caused him to regret the question.

"Your father?" Cutter paused for a moment, then the recollection was visible upon his face. "Oh, yes, Egg. Lord Umber mentioned Egg…"

"Egg didn't say much when we met him," Skywise said wish a faint chuckle.

A rosy-cheeked elf perched on a chair behind Skywise laughed, which caused Skywise to turn and grin back. "He was a bit _stiff_, if I remember it right," the elf said with a guffaw that caused Skywise to chuckle quietly.

A dark-skinned elf with hair the color of the deep red flowers that occasionally bloomed at the base of The Mountain placed a delicate hand on Skywise's shoulder. The gesture caused him to return to sitting with his tribemates.

"Forgive us. Some have been enjoying the wine a bit too much. My name is Leetah, and your father was a great rock-shaper. It's a shame that he is no longer here, because this mountain he created is breathtaking. I would have enjoyed speaking with him," Leetah said, her green eyes calm and sparkling as she looked kindly at Balen.

Balen did not have an immediate response, but he nodded politely at the beautiful elf.

"So, Cutter," Arrowstorm broke in, "I was just telling Balen how much he would like the Holt."

Cutter smiled, raising an eyebrow curiously at Arrowstorm. "Were you now?" He looked back at Balen, and said, "Well, Balen, we would be happy to have you join us for a visit on our journey back."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you." Balen said, though he felt an anxious bundle of emotions creep up at the notion.

As Arrowstorm led Balen to the other side of the room occupied by the Wolfriders, Balen noticed Arrowstorm was beaming with a satisfied smile. Balen wondered if what had just occurred was acceptance from his chief – acceptance to take Balen to the Holt and acceptance of Balen in general. He continued to mull over the idea as Arrowstorm stopped before another pair of elves, one of which Balen remembered from the previous day.

"Arrowstorm," a female elf with skin as pale as the moon and piercing purple eyes said. He embraced her warmly, and she looked at him with a tender devotion that made Balen realize immediately that she was Arrowstorm's mother. The other elf was statuesque, and he looked at Balen with an unreadable expression. _Definitely Arrowstorm's father_, Balen thought.

"Mother, father. This is Balen." Arrowstorm looked at them expectantly, and Balen found their scrutinizing stare too much to bear and looked down at his feet nervously.

Balen glanced up to see them exchange a knowing glance. Arrowstorm's father looked at his son. Suddenly, Arrowstorm led out an exasperated sigh "Yes, of course I'm being careful," he said in response to something Balen realized was a question he did not hear. "I'm being careful," he repeated, dejectedly.

His mother leaned forward and brushed aside a stray strand of Arrowstorm's hair. Giving Balen a slight smile, she said, "It's good to finally meet you, Balen. Arrowstorm has told us all about you."

Balen gave a nervous, crooked smile and let out a mirthless chuckle. "I hope he spoke well of me, at least," Balen said in an attempt to break the intense attention directed at him.

"He told us all good things," she said, giving Arrowstorm a cognizant smile.

Arrowstorm embraced his mother once more, and his father gave his hair a quick mussing before Arrowstorm led Balen to a table towards the back of the room. He lifted a pitcher of water and poured them each a cup. Arrowstorm took a long drink, but Balen could only peer into his cup thoughtfully. "You told your parents about me?" Balen asked quietly.

Arrowstorm exhaled deeply as he filled his glass once more. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" he asked peering inquisitively at Balen before taking one last gulp of water from the cup.

"I don't know." Balen looked about for a better response but came up short.

"Come here," Arrowstorm said, pulling Balen's arm toward another part of the large sitting room. "I almost forgot about Aroree." Balen set down his cup and allowed Arrowstorm to lead him to an exquisite and unique elf that sat on the edge of a ledge of a window open to the evening air. She turned her attention to Arrowstorm as he approached, though she did not smile or show any happiness at the sight of them.

"Hello, little archer," she said with a small, soft voice. Her eyes were melancholy, and it was clear to Balen that she was taller and of a different build than the other Wolfriders.

"Aroree, this is Balen. Would you tell him what you were saying yesterday about Egg and Blue Mountain? I thought Balen would really like to hear it."

"You are Aurek's son," she nodded, a deep well of thought was apparent behind her eyes. "Yes, I knew your father." She stopped and looked timidly at Arrowstorm. "I'm sorry, little one, but I don't know if I should say more."

"No, please," Balen interjected boldly, surprising himself. Her hesitation only confirmed to Balen that she not only knew his father, but she had known him well. "Please tell me about him."

She brushed her fingers against her lips as she thought about whether or not to proceed. Still hesitant, she began to speak. "I knew your father – long before Winnowill took hold of Lord Voll and took control of Blue Mountain. He was…" she trailed off momentarily and looked beyond the pair of elves as if she was reliving the memory as she spoke. "…inquisitive and charming. He was very interested in the history of our kind, so he started to record our memories in stone. He would shape them into intricate twists of interlocking stone that started to take up entire walls of Blue Mountain. I remember one day he wanted to make them round instead of flat against the wall. So he made them in the shape of an egg." She looked back at Balen who could only look upon her with wonder at every word she spoke.

"Egg. What does the egg mean?" Balen was grateful to finally have a chance to figure out this strange reoccurrence.

"Oh, Egg was Winnowill's name for him. When she…" she trailed off and showed no indication that she was going to continue further.

"And Winnowill, she lived in Blue Mountain?" Balen asked curiously.

"Yes," Aroree said briskly and nothing more.

"Don't worry, Balen, you'll get to see Winno-fish when you come to the Palace," Arrowstorm said with a smile. Aroree's eyes looked down at the floor at Arrowstorm's words. Balen wanted to ask Aroree countless more questions, but she seemed frail and weary from their conversation. Balen thought it better to wait until another time. All of the revelations from Cutter and Aroree left Balen dizzy. _How was it possible that no one knew all of these truths about Blue Mountain and his father?_

A commotion at the door leading into the sitting room captured Balen's attention. "Oh no," Balen said under his breath as he saw two of Lord Umber's guards and Onna, his mother's servant, surveying the room. Balen watched, his heart sinking, as Cutter looked back and met Balen's eyes.

Balen started toward the door, but Arrowstorm gently grasped his arm. "What's up?" he asked.

"My mother. She's looking for me." And as he turned back away from Arrowstorm, the dreaded sight of his mother in the doorway caused a sharp panic to rip through Balen. The distraught in her fair features was apparent to Balen immediately. She looked around with abhorrence as if it was a sea of snakes that slithered between Balen and her and not the Wolfriders. Seeing that Onna and the guards were anticipating her command, she walked up to Balen, her chin upturned, not meeting a single glance of the Wolfriders.

She glared at Balen angrily, which caught Balen off guard, for he was far more used her sadness and despair than her anger.

Balen was horrified as Arrowstorm took a slight step before Balen and forced his mother to look upon the archer. Her lips curled in a look of disgust as she took in the sight of Arrowstorm. "Balen," she said, finally looking at him directly. "You are leaving now and you are coming with me."

Balen quickly whipped around Arrowstorm who attempted to stop him by clutching Balen's hand, but Balen brushed away Arrowstorm's attempt. His mother took a hold of Balen's wrist, grasping it tightly and painfully, and proceeded out of the room. Balen watched Arrowstorm's figure grow farther away as the archer watched him intently with a mix of shock and anguish. No sound came from the Wolfriders as Balen flew past them. The door closed, and his mother continued to drag him up a short flight of stairs and down the hallway.

His wits returning to him, Balen wriggled out from her grasp which caused her to spin around and sneer at him. "Have you lost your mind?" she said with an angry growl.

"I was only meeting the Wolfriders," Balen spat back.

"And you are lying to me? I know you were down at the hunting lodge with that _Wolfrider_," she said as if the very word gave her a sour taste in her mouth.

Balen shook his head. "Sal said he wouldn't tell you," he murmured.

"Sal didn't tell me anything. He didn't have to. I've had a stream of elves seeking me out to tell me you're running around with an elf who's carrying a weapon. Who knows what could have happened with no one to watch after you."

"I do not need watching after, _Mother_," Balen flared back at her.

"You most certainly do. And based on how you have been acting lately, now more than _ever_. Come now, we have to get ready for the dinner Lord Umber is hosting tonight." She beckoned him with an outstretched hand.

He felt an anger burning within him so hot that he could not clearly see her standing before him. The walls that had begun to expand and allow him to stretch his limbs and mind were closing in around him so tightly he found it difficult to catch his breath.

"I hate you," he said. His words gave her a start, and her eyes were wide with shock. "I hate you, and father hated you, and that's why he left!" Balen roared as he stepped toward her. Though it happened in the blink of an eye, Balen watched as his mother recoiled her outstretched hand and proceeded to slap Balen across the face. The sound of the impact was deafening to all who heard it.

He felt no pain at first. He stood agape, staring into his mother's eyes. She was breathing heavily, and all of the anger had drained out of her face. Now, her eyes were filled with tears; her lips trembling with each breath. She let out a sob and turned, her face in her hands, as she blindly made her way back to their shared quarters. Onna ran after her shouting, "My lady!" leaving Balen alone in the hallway.

Balen raised his hand to his face and felt the hot pain that was now pulsating across his cheek and mouth. He continued to stare at the space where his mother just stood. He began to walk slowly forward, without a clear destination in mind. He didn't want to see his mother yet. He felt ashamed at his cruel words, confused at his desires, and above all else, angered at this prison that his father built for him. This prison where he could never be free to be himself, but rather remain a pale reflection of a glorified elf who abandoned them all years ago. Remain a rag to sop up the remnants of his mother's weeping soul.

He continued to walk clumsily forward. His head was so full that Balen felt as though he could topple to the ground with each step. Relenting, he placed his back against the wall of the hallway and slid down until he sat on the floor. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beat his fists against the cold stone ground until they were nothing more than bloody stumps. Instead, he stared at the wall on the opposite side of the hallway; his mind churning with so many thoughts, he started to feel nothing at all.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching gave Balen a warning that he should leave the hallway and return to his quarters, but he was paralyzed and couldn't bring himself to retreat. The footsteps grew closer until they stopped suddenly. Balen knew whoever had approached him was looking at him, but he didn't give a thought to turning and seeing who was there. The elf came closer, and Balen saw two booted feet before him.

"Lord Balen?" came a meek elfin voice from above. He did not respond but continued to look listlessly at the pair of unknown boots. The boots turned into knees as the elf knelt down next to Balen. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Lord Balen?" the voice repeated.

Balen looked at the elf who was now eye level with him. His brow furrowed as he saw Tundle looking at him with utmost concern.

"Tundle?" Balen said, his voice low and enfeebled.

Tundle nodded and released his grasp of Balen's shoulder. "Are you all right, Lord Balen?"

"'m fine," Balen mumbled. His eyes drooped as an overwhelming tiredness swept over him.

"Are you sure? You've got a red mark on your cheek that looks pretty painful." Tundle's face never faltered from its concerned expression.

"'s nothing. No reason to worry," Balen said, though his mouth barely opened as he spoke. "What are you doing?" he asked, leaning his head back to rest against the wall.

"Well, I was going to try to stay up here tonight, but I don't think I can do it," Tundle said.

"Why not? You don't like the suite?" Balen asked, feeling less tired and becoming interested in Tundle's words.

"Oh, yes, the suite is spectacular. But, it's just…well…" Tundle searched for the right words. Balen raised his eyebrows in anticipation of Tundle's explanation. "It's sort of lonely up here. And cold. I miss my room with all my friends and family around. It's much too quiet up here, too." Tundle shook his head. "Is it terrible that I wish I didn't win the games?" Tundle peered at Balen wistfully.

"No, it is not terrible. I actually understand what you mean. All that attention– makes things complicated when everyone expects something from you."

"Lord Balen?" Tundle asked. Balen met his gaze in acknowledgement. "I think they should let you fight in the games next year. You're _truly_ the one no one could beat."

Balen let out a weak, airy chuckle but winced fiercely at the pain it caused in his cheek. "They would never let me," he said sullenly.

"The council," Tundle said, nodding.

"Among others," Balen added.

"What's got you down, Balen…Lord Balen?" Tundle asked, correcting himself.

"Balen's fine. I don't care about the formalities," Balen murmured. Tundle gave a slight smile but continued to look questioningly at Balen. "My mother is angry at me for not telling her where I was going and not having a servant at my heels watching my every move," Balen said disgustedly. He knew he shouldn't be speaking to Tundle so openly, but he found the elf to be warm-hearted and a receptive keeper of Balen's troubles. "And she found me conversing with the _Wolfriders_," Balen said, whispering the last word and nodding as Tundle's eyes widened.

"She doesn't want you talking to the Wolfriders? They seem nice," Tundle said with a shrug.

"They are nice. And I like them. _A lot_." Balen looked off into the hallway, the image of Arrowstorm returning to his thoughts.

"I think your mother is just protective of you. Your Aurek's son. That makes you more important than anyone else."

Balen looked at Tundle critically. "Tell me you do not actually believe that," Balen said.

Tundle shrugged, giving him another slight smile.

"And here I was hoping that the council members would give me my own chambers so I could have time to myself and not sleep in a bed with my mother anymore."

Tundle cocked his head at Balen's remarks, and his face suddenly brightened. "There are two sleeping chambers inside the Victor's Suite. Both of them are massive, and I certainly don't need _two_ bedrooms to myself. You could sleep in there if you wanted to get away from your mother. That way, you could have your own room but still be close enough, so she wouldn't have to worry." Tundle smiled widely at the idea and seemed genuinely pleased to offer Balen a solution to his difficulties.

Balen let out a short laugh. "That is not a bad idea, actually."

"Well, you can have the whole place to yourself. I think I'll spend a night or two in my old room," Tundle remarked. Balen started to stand, and Tundle helped him to his feet.

"Thanks, Tundle," Balen said sincerely.

"You should get that looked at by a healer," Tundle said, indicating the mark on Balen's face.

"I will," Balen said, though he had no intentions of doing so.

"I'll see you later, Balen. Enjoy the Victor's suite!" Tundle exclaimed.

"Not tonight, I am afraid." Tundle looked at him questioningly. "I have a lot of apologizing to do."

The two went their separate ways, Tundle to be among his loved ones, and Balen to seek repentance.


	10. Chapter 9: Magma

The return to his chambers proved uneventful, as for Balen's mother had no interest in discussing the conflict between them. Balen was relieved and took the opportunity to sleep beside her, finally able to claim much needed rest. It was not until the morning did Balen feel his mother's arms around him, which gave him a comfort only in the fact that the embrace indicated that she would be all right to take on the morning.

They dressed silently, and Balen wondered who would be the first to break the tension between them. He thought of a dozen polite, benign comments to make to his mother to get a clue of her emotional state, but he thought it better to follow her lead and remained silent.

Ella entered the room cheerfully, humming quietly to herself. She held a plate of food for their morning meal and set it down on the table in the sitting room. She gave them a blithesome salutation and breezed through the sitting room to the wash room to fetch cups of water. Upon returning, she was startled when her eyes finally fell upon the morose pair. Balen sat at the table, famished, and began to pick at the plate of food. His mother sat atop the ottoman on the other end of the sitting room, idly brushing the tangles from her long, brown hair.

Placing a cup before Balen, Ella glanced back at Hilleen who ignored the servant's presence. Balen thanked Ella, which made him realize the sore and swollen state of his cheek and jaw. He touched his cheek gently, applying slight pressure and felt the dull soreness emanate from the bruise. Ella watched Balen with eyes that searched for an explanation to the strange atmosphere and situation with which she found herself.

"I am all right, Ella," Balen said as he looked up wearily at Ella. Her gray-lavender eyes stared back at him, and the concern refused to leave her face. She glanced back once more at his mother across the room and leaned in closely to Balen.

"What's happened?" she said below a whisper. Balen could only meet her gaze and offered no response. He didn't want to relive any of the hot-tempered emotions from the last evening.

Ella asked Hilleen if she required any assistance and reminded her of the available food. However, it was not until Balen had finished eating and stood up did his mother approach the table and sit down.

His mother's obviously cool temperament left Balen uneasy. He could not recall a time that his mother wasn't fawning over him or simply breaking down in tears when he upset her. Balen could usually calm her easily with a tender hug and complimentary words. Today, though, Balen felt unsure of his stance with her or how to reclaim his control over her demeanor.

The tension in his cheek was extending to his neck, and Balen pressed hard against his temple to alleviate the dull pain that now pulsated within his head. He walked to the floor-length looking glass beside the table where his mother sat. The rock-shaper peered at his reflection reluctantly and despondence overwhelmed him. The mark on his face had grown a faint black-blue and contrasted dramatically against his milky white skin. His long flaxen hair was disheveled, but Balen had little desire to comb it to a proper appearance. He stared back into his own silver eyes and wondered what the point was of fighting his mother or the council's wants for him, because nothing was changing and no one would listen to him anyway.

He touched the bruise once more, and he heard his mother's small, trill voice say, "Go see Crestamin, Balen. Ella, please go with him."

Balen looked at Ella's reflection in the mirror and then back at his own. He exhaled heavily and brushed back his chest length hair lightly with his fingers, straightening out the stray strands. He walked toward the door, and Ella followed close behind him.

"Don't be gone long," his mother said as he walked out of the door.

Ella gently touched the crook of Balen's arm, and her reserved, obedient façade fell away quickly. "Balen, what in Lord Voll's name happened? How did you get that bruise on your face?" Balen continued to walk forward, ignoring her question, which forced her to stand before him and halt his progress.

Balen looked away from her and looked down, shaking his head. The truth was not something Balen wanted to divulge to Ella, but he also wanted to alleviate her justifiable concern. When nothing came to him to say, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder and proceeded to continue down the hallway. Ella paused before briskly catching up with him and followed him to Crestamin's quarters.

The healer's quarters were directly next to Lord Umber's and the open door indicated that the healer had arisen and was accepting visitors. Balen rapt gently against the door, indicating his presence, and stepped gingerly into the welcoming sitting room. The room was brightly lit with an array of candles that dripped heavily with wax.

"One moment!" Crestamin called from the adjacent room.

Ella seized the opportunity to elicit information from Balen. "I know you don't want to tell me what happened, but could you at least…" she stopped speaking abruptly as Crestamin walked into the sitting room.

"Excuse me, you caught me in the middle of breakfast," Crestamin said, rubbing his hands together. The sight of Balen gave him a start, and Balen smiled weakly.

"Hello, Crestamin. I…" Balen trailed off, brushing his fingers against his wounded cheek. "I know this is nothing really, but my mother insisted I come to see you."

Crestamin's white hair was tied back tightly, which made his sharp features all the more severe. Gold rings adorned the sides of each of his pointed ears. Though he was as old as Lord Umber and an elder of The Mountain, the ages gone by were not apparent in his flawless, pale complexion. His white eyebrows furrowed as he approached Balen.

"I am very glad you did come see me," Crestamin said, raising his hands to delicately touch Balen's face. Balen flinched involuntarily at the touch. Immediately, a warm wave enveloped Balen's cheek and jaw, concentrated heavily at the tender sight of the bruise. The healing gave a shudder of relief and pleasing warmth within Balen, as Crestamin soothed Balen's tight muscles throughout his entire body.

The healer removed his hands from Balen's face. The rock-shaper was repaired wholly, but Crestamin continued to look at Balen with intense concern.

"Please, sit for a moment Balen." Crestamin indicated a set of seats in the center of the room.

"I really should get back to Mother," Balen said, but he found himself sitting down. Ella sat along the wall on a couch adorned with elegant fur pillows.

Crestamin sat in a chair across from Balen and crossed his thin legs comfortably. "Is everything all right with you and your mother?" the healer asked.

"Yes," Balen said, trying to smooth out any inflection in his voice that would suggest falsehoods. "Everything is fine."

"I see," Crestamin said, placing his elbow on the armrest of the chair and resting his chin thoughtfully on his hand. He continued to stare at Balen, an obvious dissatisfaction with Balen's response on the healer's expression.

"How did you receive that bruise, then?" Crestamin interrogated Balen further. Balen said nothing and simply met the healer's gaze.

"You do not have to tell me," Crestamin said, "but I want you to know that you can come to me anytime. Not just for healing of the body but healing of the mind as well." Balen did not respond, and the healer continued. "You are young and facing many challenges. Your immense power…the absence of your father – these things are difficult to bear alone. You are not alone, Balen. You have all of the council members to guide and support you."

Balen broke from Crestamin's gaze. The healer leaned forward and laid a hand delicately on Balen's knee. "Are you hearing me, Balen?"

"Yes," Balen said quietly.

Crestamin sat up straight and turned to look at the open doorway. Balen turned to see Lord Umber standing portentously in the doorway. Ella stood and nodded, giving Lord Umber a polite greeting. Lord Umber entered the room and joined the pair sitting in the circle of chairs in the center of the room.

"I was searching for you Balen, and your mother tells me you are right next door," Lord Umber said with a friendly chuckle. Lord Umber seeking him out gave Balen an anxious feeling, and the rock-shaper looked skeptically at the supreme lord.

"Indeed. I do not get to converse enough with our lord rock-shaper," Crestamin said, flashing a smile in Balen's direction. Balen was grateful that Crestamin neglected to mention his bruised faced to Lord Umber.

"Well, excuse my interruption, but I did want to speak to you before tonight's dinner," said Lord Umber, continuing to direct his attention at Balen. "I am still very convinced that we need to begin transitioning you, Balen, to take your father's seat on the council. Now that you have had some time to think it over, how do you feel about taking on the responsibility of a seat on the council?"

Lord Umber and Crestamin looked expectantly at Balen. His silver eyes shifted from one elder to the other as he grasped at an answer to Lord Umber's question. Balen couldn't help but feel an aching within his heart, because he knew that he wanted nothing to do with the council or its endless demands upon his time. His father had built The Mountain, and, from all Balen had heard, his father garnered the respect and admiration from his people. Balen felt ill-equipped to fill the legacy his father left him, and he felt no desire to claim that power. More than anything, Balen wanted to be left alone; left alone to make his own choice about his role in the world.

Despite this, Balen knew his wishes would fall on deaf, or worse intolerant, ears. He thought dispiritedly that compliance was his only way out of this inquisition.

"I feel honored and humbled by your faith in me. I just hope I do not disappoint you or the council members," Balen said, unable to look directly into the eyes of Lord Umber or Crestamin.

Lord Umber nodded and glanced at Crestamin. "I cannot imagine how you could ever disappoint us, Balen. You are Aurek's son. The Mountain is in your blood, and it is more yours than any of us could claim."

Balen looked back at Lord Umber reluctantly and did not respond.

After a brief silence, Balen sat forward in his chair and said, "My mother didn't want me to be gone long. I should get back to her."

"One more moment, please, Balen." Lord Umber's response was kind but showed authority. Balen sat back in his seat.

"The Wolfriders plan to return to their home tomorrow morning. Tonight, I would like to hold a private dinner with them and the council members. Your and your mother's presence is expected," Lord Umber ordered, returning to his normal demeanor of supreme leader.

Though Balen nodded affirmation, his heart began to pound heavily within his chest. The thought of the Wolfriders leaving as soon as tomorrow filled him with a desperate sadness. Life would return to normal, and Balen knew now more than ever exactly what that meant. The thought occurred to him that he might rather die than continue his miserable existence he found himself in before the Wolfriders arrived. Before Arrowstorm arrived. The archer's image pulled at the corners of his mind and made his eyes sting with the threat of tears. He swallowed hard and looked at Lord Umber in hopes that the leader was quite through with him.

The supreme lord stood, giving a polite goodbye to Crestamin. Balen bolted out his chair and said goodbye to Lord Umber before hurriedly walking out of the door. Ella walked a few paces behind Balen as they returned down the hallway towards Balen's chambers. Balen continuously fought off the onslaught of tears that tried relentless to fill his eyes. As they approached the door to his quarters, he stopped.

"Could you give me a moment alone?" Balen turned to Ella and asked.

"Of course, Balen. I'll go fetch your mother's new dress from the tanners," she said and smiled warmly at Balen. She paused a moment to look at Balen with a hint of concern but turned and walked down the hallway and out of sight without another word.

The moment he could no longer see her, Balen's breaths began to hitch within his throat. He walked away from the door to his chambers and headed aimlessly down the hallway. His mind swirled with anxious, despairing thoughts that forced one panicked wave after another to wash over him as he stumbled forward.

"No," Balen moaned to himself, which caused the tears to floor his eyes with a stinging intensity. They flowed quickly down his face, pooling at his jaw and dripping onto the floor as he hastened towards an unknown destination. He stopped finally, blinded by the tears, and leaned against a stone wall in a hallway that dead-ended at the Victor's Suite.

"Curse it," Balen breathed as a sob escaped his lips. He attempted to steady his breathing and calm himself, but the relentless tears and jagged-edged thoughts continued their attack upon him. He covered his eyes with one hand, though it did not stop them from falling, and breathed heavily.

"Balen?" The rock-shaper heard a quiet voice and could not determine how far the source of the voice was.

"By the High One's, what now? Could I have one moment alone?" Balen said with an angry trembling voice that caused his tears to worsen momentarily.

When no response came, Balen peered around to find the source of the voice. Down the hallway stood Arrowstorm. A torch on the wall cast a faint light on his features, but he remained mostly in shadow. Balen could see that he was not wearing his bow or quiver.

"Arrowstorm?" Balen said weakly in disbelief. The tears and sadness drifted out of him at the sight of Arrowstorm's honey eyes and wild auburn hair. The Wolfrider approached him silently. His face showed no signs of playfulness, but instead he looked at Balen with stern, resigned concern.

"You are crying," Arrowstorm said gruffly and quietly. Balen sniffed and nodded, unable to deny the fact to the on looking archer. "What's happened?" he asked.

Balen looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. "What is wrong with me?" Balen pleaded, ignoring Arrowstorm's inquiry. Balen looked back up to meet Arrowstorm's gaze. "Why does everything make me unhappy?" The tears threatened to fall once again.

Arrowstorm turned his head quickly to stare down the hallway at nothing. "Someone's coming," Arrowstorm said so quietly, Balen almost didn't hear it.

"Owl pellets," Balen cursed and looked around, frustrated. His gaze landed on the doorway to the Victor's Suite, and his mind flickered with an idea. Grabbing the center of Arrowstorm's tunic, he pulled the Wolfrider towards the suite and swung Arrowstorm around and through the door before closing it and fastening the latch.

The sitting room of the Victor's Suite was pitch black except for the stream of light that entered through the crack at the bottom of the front door. It was enough light for Balen to see, next to the door, a small end table with fire implements strewn about its flat surface. He picked up pieces of flint and found the tinder to be dry and ready for lighting a small flame. His face still hot from tears, he struck the flint haphazardly, for Balen rarely had to light his own fires and only watched servants start them. Arrowstorm took the pieces gently from Balen's hand, and though he could only see the faint outline of his shape, Arrowstorm lit the tinder with a flash as if the darkness was no impediment to the archer.

Balen took the sulfur-soaked wooden stick and proceeded to light the candles strewn about the suite. The task calmed him and allowed the tears to dry from his eyes as he attempted to collect his thoughts. Making his way back into the sitting room to extinguish the match and blow out the tinder, Balen noticed Arrowstorm examining various decorations and fur throws and pillows about the room.

"Is this your room?" Arrowstorm asked, peering at a pair of antlers that adorned the wall.

"No," Balen said, sitting down heavily into a plush chair in the corner of the room. "It is Tundle's room. He will not mind that we are here."

"Smells like ash," Arrowstorm said absent-mindedly, though Balen couldn't smell anything but the lingering aroma of the bitter burning sulfur of his matchstick.

"You should not be here," Balen murmured, staring blankly at an unremarkable spot on the floor before him.

The words captured Arrowstorm's attention, and he approached Balen.

"No, that is not right," Balen said with a twinge of annoyance in his voice as he shook his head. "You can be anywhere you want to be. _I_ should not be here. With you." He rubbed his face roughly with his hands, but the rock-shaper could not shake his sadness.

Arrowstorm knelt down before Balen and gazed up at him with eyes that searched for understanding. The Wolfrider did not speak.

"You are leaving tomorrow?" Balen asked, the melancholy in his voice and eyes remaining palpable.

Arrowstorm nodded, and the dim light cast shadows across his sharp features with each movement. "But there's no reason to fret, Tuftcat. You won't need to take anything when you come to the Holt…"

"Just stop Arrowstorm. Do not even say it," Balen interrupted him and covered his face with his hands.

"But Balen," Arrowstorm said softly and reached out to touch Balen's hands.

"No, Arrowstorm," Balen said aggressively, sitting forward in his seat. The archer continued to kneel firmly before Balen and didn't flinch at the rock-shaper's exasperated movements. "Do not talk about going to the Holt. I cannot bear it. You do not understand," Balen said, feeling the rush of emotion causing dreaded tears to form in his eyes once more. He breathed in heavily, attempting to not let sadness and despair take him over again.

"I want to understand," Arrowstorm said, his voice monotone and controlled. "I want to know you, Balen." His brow furrowed slightly, for just a moment.

"I can't begin to tell you," Balen said, his eyes darting about the room as he attempted to wrap his mind around a way to get Arrowstorm to understand.

"Of course you can. Why…"

"Because it is _everything_. It is my entire life. My mother, my father. Everyone in this blasted mountain," he said, his voice raising in volume and breaking as the hot tears slid down his cheeks. Arrowstorm did not move from his vigilant position before Balen and continued his steady gaze. Shame and anger twisted in his thoughts as Balen looked back at Arrowstorm's calm, hazel eyes. He felt foolish, for he could not stop the tears or hide the anger in his voice.

"I'm Aurek's son," Balen said, his voice calming somewhat as he was reminded of Lord Umber's words from moments earlier. "I cannot leave The Mountain," Balen said despairingly.

"Did the sun rise and set before you were born?" Arrowstorm said, his gaze upon Balen never faltering. Balen's face twisted in confusion at the Wolfrider's words. "It will rise and set after you leave. They will find a way without you, Balen."

"No," Balen said, frustration bubbling up within him. Balen searched for a singular way to describe a complex mess of emotions. Balen could only shake his head at the notions which disgusted and enflamed him.

As the moments passed, Balen looked at Arrowstorm, and his sadness about his ever-planned future was replaced with a painful reminder of the Wolfrider's soon departure.

"How am I supposed to go on like I never met you? I do not think I can," Balen whispered as thick tears flowed anew.

Arrowstorm leaned in closer to Balen and placed a hand on the leg of the chair upon which Balen sat, but he did not touch any part of Balen. "That's just it, Balen. I can't leave without you." His words sent a red flare through Balen's body, and he could only look into Arrowstorm's exquisite, feral eyes.

"Since I first met you, all I care about is making you smile or trying to stop this mountain from crushing you. And I think about you when I fall asleep and wish you were lying with me. All I want to do is put you on the back of my wolf and ride out to the Palace."

"Why?" Balen said, still in a daze from Arrowstorm's words.

"Why?" Arrowstorm asked back, unsatisfied with Balen's response.

"Why do you care if this mountain crushes me?"

Arrowstorm's eyes drifted down for a moment. He then returned Balen's gaze. "I don't know. But when you send to me…" Arrowstorm drifted off and thought for another moment. "…I want more of that."

"I cannot send," Balen said, which caused Arrowstorm to raise an eyebrow to indicate his disbelief.

Balen shook his head, and Arrowstorm rose to rest on his knees and become eye-level with Balen. "Send it to me, Balen," Arrowstorm said, his eyes boring into Balen's.

"Send what?" Balen asked.

"All of it," he replied.

Balen looked down once more, feeling exposed by Arrowstorm's intense gaze. He recalled all of the times he thought about Arrowstorm when the archer wasn't with him and how he felt undeniable drawn to him. Balen looked back at Arrowstorm, realizing that he had never felt this way about anyone before. _What if Arrowstorm leaves, and I never feel this again?_

Surrendering, Balen conjured up the emotions on the forefront of his mind and sent out the wordless thoughts to Arrowstorm. Once he felt their minds connect in a lock-send, Balen's mind opened like a punctured artery, and a fount of emotions rushed to Arrowstorm's open, receptive mind that accepted it without resistance. Balen began to dig deeper, and his most shameful and repressed thoughts pushed out of him. All of the anger, fear, and hopelessness that Balen held tightly within him loosened, and he shared it all with the Wolfrider.

As he went deeper into his mind, Balen cut off the connection with a start as his thoughts almost touched upon his secret soul name. The effort of the lock-sending overwhelmed Balen, and he was blinded by tears that had fallen during their intimate sending. Arrowstorm reached forward and lightly touched Balen's hair. The archer's lips parted.

Balen's eyes locked upon the small blade in a sheath strapped to Arrowstorm's thigh. Arrowstorm jerked back as Balen grabbed the handle of the blade and ripped it forcefully from the sheath. Balen looked back briefly at Arrowstorm before bolting out of his chair and walking across the room.

"Be careful with that, Tuftcat," Arrowstorm said with a hint of panic in his usually calm voice.

"Is this sharp?" Balen asked as his eyes remained on the blade in his hand.

"Yes. Very," Arrowstorm said as the concern rose in his voice, and Balen could see in the corner of his eye Arrowstorm moving toward him.

Balen looked quickly around and darted to the floor-length mirror that adorned the sitting room. He peered at his reflection, his eyes gleaming, and fell slowly to his knees, cradling the blade in his hands. Balen watched, in the reflection of the glass, Arrowstorm kneel cautiously beside him.

"I want you to cut off my hair," Balen said flatly as he continued to stare at his reflection.

"Your hair? Balen…"

"Do it now, _please_, before I lose my nerve," Balen said, shoving the blade into Arrowstorm's unprepared hands.

"Are you sure about this?" Arrowstorm said wearily, gripping his fingers around the handle.

"_Yes_," Balen said forcefully and finally turned to look Arrowstorm in the eyes.

"All of it?" Arrowstorm asked, clearly trying to stall for time to reason with the rock-shaper.

"All of it," Balen said, resolved.

Balen returned his gaze to the mirror, and he watched as Arrowstorm surveyed Balen's chest-length, straight, golden hair. The archer reached out and clutched a bundle of strands in his left hand. With his right, he lifted the blade and awkwardly began to saw at the piece of hair until it released. Arrowstorm held the blond strands in his hand and peered back at where the piece had once hung. The strands fell from his fingers, and Balen turned his head to look at the fallen strands himself.

"No moving," Arrowstorm said and used his blade-free hand to direct Balen's face to forward-facing again. The Wolfrider proceeded to cut another piece in a similar fashion.

As Balen watched the Wolfrider work, an electrifying rush shot through his body each time the blade made a faint _shick_, and the strands fell to the floor. His breathing became heavy, as he continued to focus on Arrowstorm's eyes concentrating on the task before him. Each time Balen's head moved slightly from the pressure of the blade, the tingling waves pushed through his thighs and up his back. He soon lost track of the extent at which Arrowstorm had chopped off his hair; rather, he watched the Wolfrider and thought how his skin might feel or what he looked like without his tunic or leggings on. The thoughts left him blissfully aching.

Arrowstorm dusted the stray strands from Balen's shoulders, which forced Balen to gaze intently at his reflection once more. His once thick mane of hair now was short and jagged around his head and gathered up to a flop of strands that fell across his forehead. Returning the blade to its sheath, Arrowstorm continued to peer at Balen, now with a hint of anticipation on his face.

After a long moment of staring into the looking glass, Balen turned to look at Arrowstorm. The archer cocked his head and smiled slightly, studying Balen's hair. He reached out with both of his hands and, with one sweep, combed Balen's remaining locks straight up, which caused them to stick up messily. Balen watched as a wide smile spread across Arrowstorm's face.

"There you are, Tuftcat," Arrowstorm said, as if he had finally found something that he had been long-since searching for.

The sensation of Arrowstorm's fingers against his scalp and the piercing beauty of his honey-brown eyes set Balen ablaze like a matchstick held to burning tinder. He leaned forward on his knees and allowed his body to press into Arrowstorm's. The rock-shaper pushed his fingers through the Wolfriders auburn hair and breathed out at the relief of finally feeling the soft, thin strands for himself. He instinctively focused his gaze on Arrowstorm's lips, which were now parted and matching Balen's heavy breaths with his own.

Arrowstorm wrapped his arms around Balen and pushed him onto his back and retracted back up to sit on his heels. The movement left Balen's thighs on each side of the Wolfrider's hips, and his lustful desire for him could no longer be hidden or denied. Balen could only gaze up and shift his shoulders to squirm under him.

A passage of lock-sending opened between them as Arrowstorm filled Balen's mind with his intimate, unspoken thoughts. He could see his own reflection within Arrowstorm's sending, but it was unlike how Balen could ever see himself. Instead, he saw himself through a filter of carnal wants which made Balen want to scream in affirmation. Balen allowed his own thoughts to enter Arrowstorm's mind.

Whatever particularly gave Arrowstorm the indication to do so, Balen didn't know, but he began to pull up on Balen's tunic and simultaneously press down on the exposed skin of his stomach. Balen instinctively began to sit up to assist in the easy removal of his tunic, but Arrowstorm forcefully placed a hand on Balen's chest, giving him a strong order through his sending not to move. Balen was left exhilarated and anticipating Arrowstorm's next move, eager to relinquish.

His tunic removed, Arrowstorm focused his attention on the laces of Balen's leather leggings. He pulled at them, without pausing to find a knot to undo, and the pressure of his hands upon Balen's thighs and the ties of his leggings caused Balen to moan unexpectedly through sealed lips. Arrowstorm pulled off the leggings, tossing them carelessly behind him. Balen felt the intensity of his desire mount as Arrowstorm peered down at him. The Wolfrider placed a rough hand behind Balen's knee and lifted the leg, leaning forward, until Balen felt Arrowstorm's sharp teeth make contact with the skin of Balen's thigh. The rock-shaper twisted forward and fell back with a groan. It didn't take much work or long effort before Balen writhed under Arrowstorm with an all-encompassing, throbbing pleasure that left him breathless.

He closed his eyes, and it took several moments before any thoughts at all returned to his mind. Arrowstorm's hand slid up Balen's chest and stopped to brush his fingertips gently across Balen's collarbone. The Wolfrider knelt down and pressed his cheek again Balen's neck. He heard Arrowstorm breath in steadily through his nose and gingerly press his teeth against the delicate skin of Balen's neck. Though Balen had experienced more with Arrowstorm in these moments than he ever imagined possible, he wasn't ready to be through with Arrowstorm yet, and he sent these sentiments forcefully to Arrowstorm through a wordless sending.

Arrowstorm sat up on his heels once more and looked about the room. Their minds still locked in an intimate sending, Balen felt Arrowstorm's desire to find a blanket of furs. He felt Arrowstorm's want to place Balen upon them, and what he sought to do next left Balen with a blissful anticipation.

Balen sat up and felt the mess of his former strands of hair fall away from him. He brushed away the hair from his skin that was sticky with sweat and realized that blond hair was strewn about all around them. Balen touched Arrowstorm's elbow to garner his attention and pointed to the door that lead to the spare sleeping chamber in Tundle's suite. Arrowstorm gazed at the door and turned back to Balen. His expression turned to that of an animal readying itself to pounce and devour its prey.

Sweeping his arms under Balen, Arrowstorm lifted Balen as if he was weightless and pushed him through the door into the room. A single candle lit the room casting a dim glow upon the pair. The archer sat Balen atop the raised stone platform and stepped back. Balen glanced behind him at the fur blankets covering the plush mattress. Arrowstorm's brow furrowed, and Balen could feel his dissatisfaction with the bed. He retrieved a fur blanket from the bed and placed it on the floor. Balen watched excitedly as the archer placed a second blanket atop the first.

"Get onto the furs," Arrowstorm gruffly murmured, and Balen slinked to the ground obediently.

Arrowstorm pulled his fine leather tunic over his head and stepped gracefully out of his leggings. Balen took in the sight of him as the archer knelt to join Balen on the furs. Arrowstorm reached up to remove his leather headband, but Balen sat forward which caused Arrowstorm to stop. He grinned at the rock-shaper and crawled closer to him as a result.

Balen entwined his fingers in Arrowstorm's unruly hair, and Arrowstorm pressed his mouth against Balen's neck. The steady stream of sending resumed. The joining was instinctual and aggressive, and when the Wolfrider sunk his teeth into Balen's skin or squeezed his limbs causing gentle pain, Balen sent again and again for him not to stop and not to care if it hurt him.

When Arrowstorm was spent and the two elves lay panting, their limbs still intertwined, Balen closed his eyes and felt sleep drifting near.

"I've been waiting to do that since I first laid eyes on you," Arrowstorm said, the furs muffling his voice.

Balen could only smile and pull in closer to the Wolfrider. In a few moments, they were both asleep under the furs.


	11. Chapter 10: Deliverance

_Nobody ever had a dream round here_

_But I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me_

_Nobody ever pulls the seams round here_

_But I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me_

_I've got this energy beneath my feet_

_Like something underground's gonna come up and carry me_

_I've got this sentimental heart that beats_

_But I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me, now_

_-The Killers "Sam's Town"_

**Tell me about the Holt.** Balen sent into the still open mind of Arrowstorm, though the Wolfrider was soundly sleeping.

The silence and the darkness came first. Then, as if it was his own eyes adjusting to the blackness before him, the outline of a branch was under his feet. The strange sensation of being high up from the ground, perched on the branch, toes curled effortlessly to grip the unsteady surface. A breeze touching his skin, but not his skin, but skin that felt every touch of wind, ears that heard every moving leaf and snapping twig, and eyes that needed no flame to illuminate the path. The sound of a howl, clear and understood: the kill was complete. Leaping from the branch, landing silently upon another, leaping again. Running. Hunger. Teeth bared. Two wolves at his side.

Arrowstorm's eyes opened. "I'm hungry," he murmured. He turned to face Balen, who was laying on his side and had been watching the Wolfrider for some time. His eyes gleamed in the dim light. Arrowstorm's lips curled into a small smile, and he pushed his fingers through Balen's chopped locks. His fingertips lingered on Balen's cheek and brushed his lips before he wrapped his arms roughly around Balen and pulled him so close that no space was between them.

The archer's magnetic gaze held Balen's, though he felt a sadness creeping into his mind and stabbing at the euphoria within him. Arrowstorm sensed Balen's shifting of emotions and began to tug at Balen's thoughts with an invitation to send it to him.

"I am ruined," Balen said quietly, and his gaze finally broke from Arrowstorm's.

The archer's fingers pressed into Balen's skin, and he forced Balen to roll onto his back, Arrowstorm forcing his entire weight onto Balen, which made Balen forget his sadness for a moment. Arrowstorm continued to peer searchingly and steadily into Balen's eyes.

"I cannot keep living as I was before you came to me," Balen continued. He was speaking more to himself than to the elf above him. "Not anymore."

The Wolfrider did not respond with words. Rather, he ran his tongue along Balen's jawline, which caused Balen to exhale and bury his fingers in Arrowstorm's hair. Balen already knew Arrowstorm's thoughts on the matter, though his stream of sendings confirmed them anyway: _You don't have to. You belong with me. _

Balen could feel the day had grown old as the pair had slept. The sun's heat upon the surface of the mountain was waning. Despite Arrowstorm's resolution that their time together had just begun and was not ending when the sun rose tomorrow, Balen's heart fluttered in his chest with the fear of watching Arrowstorm and his Wolfriders walk out of The Mountain. He knew Lord Umber expected him at dinner sooner rather than later.

But instead, he let the Wolfrider press his calloused fingers into his thighs. He became so enveloped in Arrowstorm's mind that he didn't realize he was gathering up softened stone along with the furs he clutched tightly in his hands. Soon enough he only made pleading moans through closed lips, begging Arrowstorm to release him from the brink to which he climbed closer and closer. Finally, he sent the tangled mess of feelings he had for Arrowstorm into the Wolfrider's mind: _I want you. I adore you. I must have you. I love you. _

Balen watched Arrowstorm through a haze of an intoxicating ache that made the Wolfrider appear to move in slow motion. It wasn't until he realized the elf was pulling on his clothing did Balen sit up with a start.

"Where are you going?" Balen asked with wide-eyes.

"Cutter just called a council. I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one they're looking for," Arrowstorm said with a smirk.

"Oh," Balen said, realizing with a chill that elves were no doubt looking for him as well.

"Don't worry, Tuftcat," Arrowstorm said, tenderly rubbing Balen's neck and shoulder with one hand. "I won't leave without you."

Balen followed Arrowstorm into the sitting room. The room was littered with masses of yellow hair and Balen's clothing. Arrowstorm began to walk toward the door leading out of the room.

"Arrowstorm," Balen said helplessly. No matter how hard he tried to force it away, a familiar desperation clawed at him. The rock-shaper buried his face against Arrowstorm's neck and felt the soft leather of his tunic against his skin. He felt Arrowstorm's arms wrap around him. They stood silently for several moments, though the sending between them was deep and loud.

Balen stepped back, giving the Wolfrider permission to go. As he silently slipped out of the door, Balen turned and began to gather his clothing, pulling them on carefully. He sat down on the same chair

he sat upon earlier, and he imagined Arrowstorm still kneeling before him. He peered at his reflection across the room for some time. The pervasive feeling, a feeling even Arrowstorm could not alleviate, continued to plague his thoughts._ I'm ruined_, he repeated to himself endlessly.

Without moving, he watched as his former strands of hair sunk into the stone floor and disappeared. They belonged to the rock now.

The rock-shaper sat alone in the empty room, ignoring the footsteps and voices he felt and heard outside the door. Balen waited until he felt a gathering of elves within the council members' chambers. The meal would commence soon, and Balen's absence would cause a commotion, if it had not already. Slowly, Balen walked to the door leading out of the Victor's Suite. He walked through the door, shaping the stone to pass around him, and trekked slowly to the council members' chambers.

He paused at the open doorway, hearing the voices chatting idly within. He could even make out the distinct tone of the Wolfriders voices and knew that they too were gathered within the large dining room. Balen stepped through the doorway and turned the corner to see the table filled with plates of delectable food and surrounded by the diners enjoying the offerings.

He met Arrowstorm's eyes first, as the elf had sent him an intimate greeting as he entered the room. His eyes lingered on Arrowstorm's as long as he could stand it as he made his way to his regular place at the table. It wasn't until he sat firmly in the stone chair did he see his mother's horrified expression.

The anger and the confusion was visible in her eyes and punctuated by her mouth that hung agape. The idle chatter fell to a murmur as Balen glanced reluctantly about the table. It was Lord Umber's voice that broke the palpable tension that had overtaken the room.

"Lord Balen. I'm pleased to see you join us, as we wondered if we would have to send a search party after you." A heavy pause lingered and made Balen squirm in his seat. He felt the pairs of eyes watching him intently. Balen could only look down at the empty place setting before him – a pearlescent plate, an empty wine goblet, a spoon, a fork, and a sharp, thin blade for cutting meat.

"What has happened to you?" his mother asked with a weak and quivering voice. Her fingers delicately touched the back of his head where locks no longer hung. "What have you done?"

A burning heat pulsed within Balen as the desire to run from the room became almost too much for him to bear.

Balen's eyes raised enough to see Arrowstorm far on the other side of the massive dining table. The tension had not avoided the Wolfriders, and Arrowstorm's father looked visibly irritated in his sideways glances at Arrowstorm. The young archer ignored his father's indications of wrong-doing and kept his eyes fixed on Balen.

"Balen?" his mother said helplessly, which caused Balen to glance back at her momentarily before resuming his vigilant downcast gaze. A part of him was grateful for the audience, for if they were alone, his mother would toss aside her controlled demeanor and have erupted into fits of sobs and angry shouts.

"Young boys can be very careless and get themselves into all kinds of messes," Crestamin, the healer, said affably, pushing back his stone seat and standing. He walked behind the seated diners at the table and approached Balen. The rock-shaper didn't stir, but internally, he was seething.

"This is quite the hack-job, but it is nothing that a little healer's touch cannot mend," Crestamin said, and he stopped directly next to Balen at the table. Balen saw the healer in the corner of his eye, but could not bring himself to speak or turn to face him. The healer's words had been heard by Balen but not truly comprehended, as the rock-shapers mind was racing with an anxiety that overwhelmed him.

The gentle hand of the healer touched Balen's head directly behind his ear. The touch sent a chill down Balen's spine so intense that the rock-shaper jerked violently away from his touch. In an instant, the knife before Balen was now in his hand. In a second instant, the knife was piercing through the back of Crestamin's hand and pinning it firmly into the stone table.

The healer let out a frantic wail as Balen watched the blood ooze up around the knife that stuck straight out of Crestamin's flesh. Balen heard the cries and shouts of the diners around the table, but he could not take his eyes from the deep red liquid. It amazed and enraptured him and allowed him to shut out the commotion all around him.

Crestamin fell to the floor and kicked futilely, writhing back and forth in an effort to free his hand from underneath the blade that Balen had stuck into the stone. Balen watched him coldly, his mind growing blank as soon as the healer had touched him.

It was only the sound of Lord Umber's booming voice that caught Balen's attention. "Balen, you will stop this at once. By the High Ones, you will stop this. _Release him now_."

Effortlessly, Balen lifted the blade from the stone, and Crestamin fell onto his back, clutching his hand, though the wound had already closed. As council members surrounded the stricken healer, Crestamin sat up enough to meet Balen's gaze.

"You are as mad as he is," Crestamin spat through heavy breaths.

Balen stood on unsteady legs and stepped away from the table. The once curious eyes had become those of horror and disgust.

The touch of Arrowstorm's hand against Balen's arm caused Balen to turn from the distraught crowd and gaze at the Wolfrider. No look of disgust appeared there. Instead, the same warm, familiar eyes looked at him.

"It's time to go, Balen," Arrowstorm said, his eyes breaking away for a moment to glance at something behind Balen. "Let's go now," Arrowstorm repeated, though his voice was heightened with urgency.

Still unable to utter a syllable, Balen looked slowly to his mother, who was now standing and looking fretfully at Balen. Their eyes met, and her hands outstretched with a silent plea to come to her – to return to her.

With a glance back at Arrowstorm, the Wolfrider's glinting eyes made the decision: it was time to go.

Interlocking his fingers tightly with Arrowstorm's, the Wolfrider bolted forward at a pace that Balen only could meet by the adrenaline that beat within every fiber of his being. They seemed to fly down the steps, taking leaps to cross several steps at a time, and it was to Balen's amazement that he did not tumble headfirst down the steps. It was his own will, and Arrowstorm's fierce grasp, that propelled him forward. The memory of Arrowstorm playfully racing Balen's up the stairs entered Balen's thought as the pair now fled wildly down them with equal furor.

Without warning, a painful, spiteful sending invaded Balen's mind, causing the rock-shaper to lose his footing and fall against Arrowstorm. The Wolfrider gracefully swung Balen back onto his feet, but stopped his descent to turn and look back up the stairs. The source of the painful sending was Galazar, who stood menacingly above them and berated the pair with one wave of unbearable pain after another. The sending crippled Balen, and he winced and knelt down. Arrowstorm pulled on Balen's arm, attempting to keep him standing, but Balen was blinded with pain.

With a feral growl escaping his throat, Arrowstorm grabbed Balen under both shoulders, and Balen felt the pain melt instantly from his mind. Now able to find his footing, the two continued down the stairs.

**How did you stop him?** Balen sent frantically to Arrowstorm.

**He's not the only elf who can black send.** Arrowstorm replied, the distaste for Galazar and any black sending present in his sending.

As the two approached the lowest tier of The Mountain, Balen was clear-minded enough now to direct Arrowstorm through his sending to the shorter path through the stone walls themselves. In a matter of moments, the paid was before the Great Door. The massive doorway had long since been enclosed with stone, but a small door remained in the corner to allow entry into The Mountain.

Balen skidded to stop, a panic overcoming him as he gazed at the intricate border of the doorway that his father had shaped ages ago.

**Open the door.** Arrowstorm commanded, and Balen felt defenseless against his will. The entire stone face of the doorway parted and a rush of wind blew past them.

Arrowstorm took Balen by the hand once more and pulled him forward. Balen felt his heart racing as he passed under the great doorway and out into the evening light. The moons were visible, though the light of the sun had not fully escaped the sky. Balen felt his legs moving beneath him, but he thought only of Arrowstorm's hand around his own. He thought surely that he would collapse if the Wolfrider let him go.

A pair of wolves emerging up the stony hill gave Balen a fright, but, before he could protest, Arrowstorm filled his mind with a reassuring sensation that these wolves were his friends – his family.

"Timmorn's blood, am I glad to see you two," Arrowstorm said breathlessly. He glanced behind him quickly to confirm that no one was closing in on them, and then knelt before one of the wolves. As one wolf sniffed Arrowstorm and whined, the other gazed intently into Arrowstorm's eyes silently. Both wolves were similar in color, both a shade of light gray, but one wolf had a distinct grizzle around its snout that indicated its age. The wolf gazing into Arrowstorm's eyes, by contrast, had a luster in its fur and a lean build that suggested youth.

Arrowstorm looked at Balen and held out his hand. "Come to me, but not too fast," Arrowstorm said. His words forced the fear back into Balen, but he relented to Arrowstorm's command and stepped gingerly forward.

The gray wolf bristled and tossed its head from side to side, patting its feet against the stony ground. "Easy, Baby," Arrowstorm said, rubbing its ear lovingly.

Balen continued to step forward until he was standing next to Arrowstorm. The Wolfrider grabbed Balen's wrist lightly and pulled Balen's arm forward until his fingertips were under the wolf's snout.

"Balen, this is Baby. She's kind of a pest, but she has no choice but to like you."

Balen remained silent as the wolf sniffed his fingers and touched her wet nose against the back of his hand.

"That's good enough for me," Arrowstorm said and hopped effortlessly onto the back of Baby. The Wolfrider looked expectantly back at Balen. The rock-shaper stood paralyzed, unsure of what Arrowstorm expected and unable to stifle his fear of the ferocious-appearing beasts.

"They're coming, Balen. Come on," Arrowstorm urged and patted the small space on Baby's back before him.

Relenting, Balen approached the wolf and tried to climb onto its back but found the task too daunting. Arrowstorm pulled Balen's leg over the wolf. The ropes of muscles on the wolf's back were detectable under Balen's hands, and each inhale of the wolf could be felt under Balen's legs. Though the feeling of being atop the wolf was strange and seemed precarious, an exhilaration went through Balen.

Arrowstorm placed his hands over Balen's, and he forced Balen's palms into the fur of Baby's back. The archer curled his fingers, and Balen clutched onto the tuft of fur.

"Hold on," Arrowstorm said, excitement evident in his voice. He wrapped one arm tightly around Balen's waist, while his other hand stayed in place over Balen's. The wolf lurched forward and soon enough they were dashing down the hill. Trees began to dot their surroundings, and the branches were flying past him as they rushed down toward the thick forest. Balen looked back to see the second wolf keeping pace nearby.

Soon, the pair stopped in a clearing, and Balen realized that a strange vibration hung in the air around him. He climbed off the wolf clumsily, and Arrowstorm's gaze darted around the open space before them.

"Curse it, Rayek," Arrowstorm sneered.

"What's wrong?" Balen said, still unable to place the strange sensation he felt since they arrived at the clearing.

"The palace is hidden by magic. It's somewhere near here, but I guess Rayek thinks I'm up to something. Which I suppose I am," Arrowstorm said, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

"The palace," Balen said, unable to believe what Arrowstorm was saying. "The Palace of the High Ones is here?" Without waiting for Arrowstorm to confirm, Balen began to wander forward. It felt strange and uncomfortable to not be surrounded by stone. He tried with great difficulty to feel the world around him, but so much escaped his magical awareness since so much of the clearing was plant, dirt, or air. Instead, he concentrated on the vibrations that pulled at his fingertips and allowed them to guide him forward.

"It is here," Balen murmured to himself. He stepped forward once more, until a strange shimmer of colors appeared instantly before him and disappeared. He stared intently into the empty air until the shimmer appeared once more, and the rock-shaper rushed forward and placed his hand upon an invisible surface.

To Arrowstorm, Balen must have appeared to be touching the air, but the rock-shaper could feel the wall of the strange stone before him. The wall of the palace. He began to mold it with his fingertips, the stone bending to his magic in a way unlike any stone he ever encountered.

Flashing like a bolt of lightning in the sky, the palace materialized before them and shone brightly, a magnificent beacon of light.

"By the High Ones…" Balen whispered, stepping back to see the peaks of the palace jutting high into the evening sky.

Balen couldn't take his eyes from the shimmering, chromatic palace, though Arrowstorm slipped his arm across Balen's back and wrapped him in an embrace.

**You're free, Balen. The palace can take you anywhere you wish to go.** Arrowstorm sent, his feelings of devotion and affection for Balen apparent in his sending.

**I am going wherever you go.** Balen responded, turning to look into Arrowstorm's eyes.

**To the Holt?** Arrowstorm asked.

**To the Holt** Balen replied, an involuntary smile appearing.

Arrowstorm turned to look at the palace, and Balen was surprised to see a dark-skinned elf in a splendid red cape peering skeptically at the pair.

"You are the rock-shaper," the elf said, though Balen did not feel as though the elf was speaking to him.

"His name is _Balen_," Arrowstorm said, grabbing Balen's hand and leading him past the elf and through the opening to the palace from which the elf had appeared.

Balen continued to stare at the elf with thick black hair that was pulled tightly away from his face. The elf rose from the ground and glided gracefully into the palace, his cape flapping against the wind.

"Stay here until the others arrive," the elf ordered, looking at Arrowstorm with repulsion.

Arrowstorm glowered at the elf, who turned and walked into the adjacent room. When the two wolves appeared at Arrowstorm's side, the Wolfrider knelt to greet them again lovingly, nuzzling each of them and scratching the fur around their faces.

"I missed you," Arrowstorm said, the wolves grunting in a seeming understanding.

Arrowstorm looked up at Balen. He stood and approached Balen. The Wolfrider ran his hand through Balen's hair, mussing it a bit, and smiled.

"Are you all right?" Arrowstorm said, pulling Balen close as he wrapped his arms around him. "How do you feel?" he asked quietly into his ear.

Balen didn't have to say it. He simply felt it, the unfaltering joy, and sent it out to share with the elf, whose arms he never wanted to release him.


	12. Epilogue

A little preview of Balen and Arrowstorm's next adventure...

* * *

"Come on, archer. Just one round. You can put up one of your rock-shaper's gold nuggets!"

Balen heard the voice far below and chuckled to himself. He could only imagine Arrowstorm's attempts to ignore the chatty trolls. Another fist-sized ball of soft gold emerged through the stone effortlessly, and the rock-shaper dropped the mass into the sack slung across his back.

"None of you wolf elves ever challenge us to a game. What's up? Afraid you'll lose your hide?" the troll continued, berating Arrowstorm ceaselessly.

Another large nugget emerged, and Balen held if for a moment, listening intently below to hear if Arrowstorm would respond to the troll's taunts.

"Look at him, Drub, I know that look! I think you're making him angry."

"Well, brother Flan, wouldn't you be if you knew you couldn't win a simple came of toss stone?"

Balen listened to the laughing of the trolls below. He allowed the gold nugget to slide from his fingers. It rolled down the rock-shaped tunnel and clattered noisily to the stone floor far below.

**Balen?** Arrowstorm sent, the anxiety in his sending palpable.

**I want you to win me back _twice_ that,** Balen sent in response.

Balen couldn't hear Arrowstorm, but he felt in a wordless sending the archer's mirth.

**I'm not here for troll games, Tuftcat.**

Balen relented and began to deepen the tunnel enough to easily reach the next cluster of gold tucked within the rock.

**Little Egg… Yellow head… **

Balen sat back on his heels and stiffened his spine. He glanced around the darkness the surrounded him. The sending was strange, like a tickling inside his head, and coming from an unknown source.

**Arrowstorm?** Balen sent.

Arrowstorm responded with an inquisitive sending, and Balen could sense that Arrowstorm had not received the strange sending.

**Where is the Egg…**

Balen's breathing quickened.

**Left you instead…**

**Who are you?** Balen sent out to the undefinable source.

"Balen?" Arrowstorm hollered up through the opening below, but Balen sat as still as he could, listening intently for a response from the stranger.

After a long moment, the voices of the trolls resumed below. Balen deepened the tunnel.

**The Stone is the flesh that we shape and mold…**

Those words, Balen thought. He pushed forward through the stone.

**…But what part is free and what do we hold?**

Mother used to sing those words. Balen could hardly hear Arrowstorm's frantic shouts and ignored his sendings that pierced his mind. The tunnel opened to another, and Balen froze to look upon the stranger.

"Hello, Little Egg."


End file.
